


Just you and me.

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Best Friends, Boys Kissing, Drama, Epic Bromance, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story about Zlatan and his long term friendship with Maxwell.<br/>I always loved them together so I wanted to write something about them.<br/>It's kind of slashy.</p><p>BTW I based it on the book Zlatan wrote a little.<br/>He did move in with Maxwell for a few weeks when he first came to Ajax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Zlatan, who the hell are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zlatan meets Maxwell and the little Brazilian will change his life.  
> Whether he wants it or not.

Zlatan.

 

 

Zlatan Ibrahimovic was a pretty unusual man. A guy who had grown up with the aftershocks of a hard, neglected life.

He was brought up in a broken home, his parents got divorced when he was young. His father drank too much, his mum was tough as nails and his half sister was a drug addict.

Football was his escape from it all.

So he played on the little soccer field they had in Rosengard's ghetto where he grew up.  
He was barely 19 years old when he got transferred from Malmo FF to Ajax.

He was the most expensive Swedish player to ever be sold to another club and that made him very proud.  
When he arrived in the Netherlands he felt kind of unsure of himself.

He didn't know anyone yet and he didn't speak the language.

He met the team and the trainer Co Adriaanse and they were all nice.  
There were a few other new guys like him.

One was called Mido and he was Egyptian and a trouble maker like himself.

The other one was a Brazilian guy with a very long, complex name, but Zlatan could call him Maxwell.  
Zlatan had a great feeling about him instantly and swabbed phone numbers with Maxwell.

He got his first pay check and spent all his money on a Mercedes convertible which he later realized was incredibly stupid since he had no money left to even buy food for himself.

Yes he was used to an empty fridge for when he was growing up his dad only had beer in the fridge and Zlatan was used to being hungry a lot.

But now he was lonely in his house in Diemen and he called his father.

Who yelled at him for being an idiot for buying a car when he couldn't even afford food.

He called his ex girlfriend Mia, but she refused to help him.

Just when he was totally lost and sick of it, he found Maxwell's number in the pocket of his coat.  
He looked at it a while before he called him.

 _I must be out of my mind to ask him for help_ \- that thought went trough his head all the time and just when he wanted to hang up, Maxwell answered.

''Hello?''

''Hi Maxwell, it's Zlatan. We met a couple days ago, I hope you remember that,'' he mumbled and he felt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

''Yes of course I remember, how are you Zlatan?'' Maxwell had a nice voice, it was warm, friendly and Zlatan immediately felt better.

''Well I'm not really great, to be honest. I bought a car and forgot to realize that our pay is coming in a few weeks, so now I don't have money to feed myself.  
So I was thinking that maybe you could loan me some so that I can start up.  
I will repay you right away of course,'' he offered. His heart was in his throat.

''No that won't work for me,'' Maxwell said and Zlatan felt like he was the biggest loser alive.

''I understand, talk to you later,'' he wanted to hang up but heard Maxwell say, ''No that's not what I meant, look just move in with me for a while.  
I have food, a spare bed and I can cook for you if you like,''

Zlatan went silent for a few seconds because he was so stunned that Maxwell offered to take him into his house.

He was not used to the kindness of strangers at all.

''But you- don't even know me?  
So why would you- let me into your house?'' he stammered.

''Because I trust you, and I'm really lonely out here.  
I came all the way from Brazil Zlatan, I miss having people around me, my family.  
Just pack up your stuff and move in here for a while,''

Zlatan thought about it long and hard before he spoke again.

''You're not offering this because you have the hots for me or something right?'' he asked with a small smile and he heard Maxwell burst into laugher.

''No you _lunatic_ , I don't have the hots for you.  
This is just what we do in my country okay!  
You take care of other people if you can. You cannot play football here without food, you will starve and your results will be awful.  
So just pack up your stuff and let me feed you,''

''Okay I'm coming in a few hours, just send me the directions and I will drive up to you soon,'' Zlatan quipped and he wrote down Maxwell's home number.

He packed the few stuff he owned in a couple of bags and put them in the back of his Mercedes.

He drove to Oudekerk aan de Amstel and knocked on Maxwell's door. When Maxwell opened the door, he grinned at him. ''Hey, come on in, welcome to my humble cottage,'' 

''Thank you,'' Zlatan said, and he meant it. Maxwell's house was simple, not too big but the walls were creme colored and there were family photos everywhere. 

The Brazilian led him upstairs, carrying one of his bags and showed him his new room.

There was a little chocolate on his pillow and Zlatan smiled.

''Wow it looks like a hotel in here,'he said in awe and he ate the chocolate.

''Well it isn't. You will have to do some work to earn your free stay,'' said Maxwell with a stern face and Zlatan nodded.

''Sure whatever you need I will do it,''

''Well all I ask of you is that you help me cook, and that you play chess with me.  
Do you like chess?'' he asked curiously, glancing hopefully at the chess board that was standing on a table in Zlatan's room.

Zlatan suddenly realized that he had also seen a chess board in the living room. Maxwell must be really good at it then, he mused. 

''Yes I really like playing chess,'' he said, mostly to keep Maxwell happy.

He was bluffing of course, like always.

Zlatan had never played chess in his life.  
That was a game for fancy rich boys, not for ghetto kids like him.

Zlatan was used to stealing bikes when he was little, or stealing food.

In fact if he would not have become a football player he was sure he would have become a mobster or a thief.

''Good maybe we can play a little chess tonight,'' Maxwell suggested, surveying him closely.  

Zlatan felt a slight panic rising to his chest but he kept it together, shrugged his shoulders and said: ''sure''

That afternoon they went to the supermarket together to buy food.  
Zlatan took some cornflakes, since he was kind of addicted to those.

He could eat them right out of the box without any milk.

Maxwell bought some nice meat and offered to cook some typical Brazilian dishes that night.

Zlatan felt a little awkward with letting Maxwell pay for his food, but he just waved his comment away and said that he didn't mind it at all.

''It's a Brazilian thing Zlatan, so just stop whining about it and accept it,''

That evening Maxwell cooked a dish with Banana, rice and some beef in it.

It was like a stew and Zlatan tried to help as well as he could but he never really cooked anything like this in his life and he felt insecure and clumsy.

Maxwell however was a completely peaceful guy and Zlatan felt like he was the world most patient man alive.

He didn't even get mad at him when he dropped an egg on his floor, he just said it was okay and cleaned it up.

Zlatan was used to a lot of anger in his life, his family was very hard on him, and he was used to fighting with everyone he knew.  
In fact everything he did in his life, he considered a fight.

His body and soul were always ready for it.

Never trusting anyone, always suspicious of new people.

He was used to do everything alone, and never getting any help or pads on the back from his family, and here was this strange Brazilian who just let him into his home.

Who seemed to trust him and who wanted to feed him without a single objection.  
It felt completely unnatural for him to be honest.

When the dish was almost ready Zlatan set the table and sat down across from Maxwell.  
''So this is a typical Brazilian dish and I love it so much, my mum always made it for me and my two brothers. I hope you like it,'' he said with a sly smile.

''I'm sure I will, it looks great.  
This is actually the first thing I have ever cooked in my life, besides from Mac and cheese and several fires,'' Zlatan smirked.

He took the bottle of red wine and poured some in their glasses.

''How do you say enjoy your dinner in Portuguese?'' Zlatan asked, who was always curious about learning new cultures and languages.

''Bom apetite. What is it in Swedish?'' Maxwell apparently shared the same curiosity and Zlatan smiled.

''Njuta av din maltid,'' said Zlatan and Maxwell repeated it a few times till he got it right.

''Listen Maxwell, thank you so much for taking me into your home, and cooking for me.  
I want you to know that I really appreciate that. Nobody ever took care of me before, I never asked anyone for help in my life.  
I grew up with always taking care of myself and doing everything on my own.  
So that you take care of me now is totally foreign for me,'' he admitted.  

Maxwell nodded understandingly and took a bite of his dinner.

Zlatan grabbed his fork and took a bite of the strange dish and he loved it.  
It was creamy, the banana was to die for and the beef was amazing.  
''Oh my god, this may be the best thing I have ever eaten in my life,'' he beamed and he took a sip of his wine.

He was afraid to admit that he never drunk any alcohol before that night and he didn't really like the wine, it made his throat burn.  
Zlatan coughed a little and Maxwell sighed, looking aggravated with him.

''You never drank wine before have you?''

''No never,'' Zlatan confessed, cheeks darkening as he kept on coughing.

Maxwell got him some water and padded his back.

''Why didn't you just say that to me?''

''I don't know, you bought all this for me, and I didn't want to seem disrespectful or something,''

''Look Zlatan, you can tell me anything okay. You don't have to walk on your toes because you don't wanna hurt my feelings.  
Just tell me the truth. You don't have to keep up the whole: 'I'm so tough' act you are playing.  
Because it's really not working on me.  
So please don't offend me by lying or walking on your toes around me okay,''

Maxwell voice was calm and his eyes were friendly but Zlatan knew he had crossed an invisible line with his new friend.

He was the kind of person that would like Zlatan either way.

This was a man that Zlatan could be himself with and just drop the whole tough guy act.

''I'm sorry Maxwell, you're right about everything. And I cannot play chess at all, but I would like to learn it from you,'' he looked at the ceiling because he was totally ashamed of his attitude now.

''Zlatan, look at me please,''

Zlatan forced his eyes off the ceiling and back to his friend.  
''Thank you for your honesty.  
I'm not mad at you, don't worry. And I will learn you how to play chess but only if you really want to.  
But please don't ever lie to me again,'' he pleaded as he took another bite of his amazing food.

''I promise I won't. But you have to understand that this is all so foreign for me.  
You being so nice, taking care of me and everything, it's just not me to just accept that,'' Zlatan said with a whisper.

''I know, but it is like _me_ to offer it to you.  
So just stop feeling uncomfortable and just accept it for now.  
Drop the tough guy act, eat your food, which you helped to cook and just be proud of that and enjoy being here okay!'' Maxwell hissed with a slight snap in his voice.

''Okay you're right. By the way this food is freaking amazing!'' Zlatan decided it was safer to continue with a happier kind of conversation.  
They talked over dinner for a long time.

About their families, their childhoods, their countries.

Maxwell had also made dessert ( home made Tiramisu and it was absolutely delicious ) and they ate it on the couch while watching a game between Barcelona and Real Madrid.

After the match Zlatan yawned a few times and wanted to go to bed.

But he had promised to play some chess with Maxwell so he grabbed the chessboard and sat down across from Maxwell.  
''So tell me how this works,''

''No not tonight, you're exhausted and you want to sleep.  
We will play some tomorrow,'' Maxwell and he got up and let Zlatan upstairs.

As Zlatan laid down in his bed, Maxwell popped his head around the corner.

''So do you need me to sing you a goodnight song,'' he teased.

Zlatan responded by throwing a pillow to his face, but he missed.  
''Well I do hope that you are better with a ball then you are with a pillow,'' Maxwell joked and Zlatan jumped out of his bed and ran after the small defender.

''You didn't say that to me did you!'' he yelled, slightly offended.

He threw Maxwell on his own bed and stomped his head gently.  
''Yeah I did,''

''Hm, you're a piece of work aren't you? Hey Maxwell?''

''Yes Zlatan,''

''Can I call you Maxi,'' he asked tentatively.

''Sure, if you like that more then Maxwell,''

''Yeah it suits you more. Maxi sounds bigger then Maxwell, it sounds powerful somehow.  
You deserve a name that suits your greatness, because you seem to be the best man I know,'' Zlatan said and he hugged his new friend to thank him for taking care of him.

''Aw that is so nice of you, although it sounds a bit gay.   
But I'm really happy to have a friend like you Zlatan,'' said Maxwell and he padded Zlatan's back a little.

''But can you get off of me now, you weigh a freaking ton,'' he smiled and Zlatan kicked his feet against Maxwell's gently.

''Whatever Maxi, sleep tight. And you know, thanks for...  
Well you know,'' he shrugged.

Maxwell gave him a warm nod.

''You're very welcome Zlatan. Sweet dreams,''

Zlatan closed the door and laid down on his new bed.

For the first time in his life he felt like he was somewhere where he could truly be himself and not get in trouble for it.

Calling Maxwell turned out to be the best decision of his life.

 

 

 

TBC.....


	2. Getting used to you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell and Zlatan go to Amsterdam for some sight seeing and Zlatan crosses some personal bounderies.

_Maxwell's house._

 

 

 

When Zlatan woke up the next morning he fell completely confused for a second.

He had forgotten where he was but when he noticed he was sleeping on a matras on the floor he realized he was staying with Maxwell.

He checked his watch and saw that it was almost ten in the morning.  
Zlatan had never been a morning person and he hated getting up early.

He wasn't sure whether Maxwell was sitting downstairs with breakfast waiting for him so he went downstairs just to be decent and polite.

When he got downstairs he saw Maxwell sitting at the black kitchen table with a mug of coffee in his hand, flipping trough the morning paper.

Zlatan smiled when he saw that Maxwell was reading the Dutch paper.

''Good morning Maxi,'' he smiled and he sat down next to Maxwell.

''Morning Zlatan, how did you sleep?'' asked Maxwell and he got up to make coffee.  
''I slept great, thanks and you?''

''Yes me too, I always sleep better when there are people around.  
This was the first time that I slept trough the night, since I got here.  
Do you want coffee?''

''Sure,''

''Milk and sugar or black?  
Or do you want a latte or something more fancy?'' asked Maxwell but he was sure that Zlatan didn't care for fancy things.

''Nope just normal coffee with milk please, but no sugar.  
I don't like fancy stuff Maxi,'' he grinned and Maxwell poured him a cup and put it in Zlatan's hands.

''Yeah I figured something like that,''said Maxwell and he sat back down.

''Thanks for the coffee,''

''Sure, no problem, do you want breakfast?''

''No not yet, I always take a few mugs of coffee first before I take my cornflakes.  
I didn't know you could speak Dutch by the way,'' he added and Maxwell looked at him confused.

''What do you mean?''

''You read the Dutch paper, so I assume you speak the language,''

''Well actually I don't, but I like looking at the photo's and trying to pick up the words a little,'' Maxwell said with a small blush.

''Oh that is really smart!'' Zlatan complimented. He took a small sip of his coffee, nearly burning his tongue.

''Really? I thought it was kind of dumb,''

''No its smart. By the way do you know what time we have to go train tomorrow?'' he asked and Maxwell flipped trough his notebook.

It was red and small and Zlatan noticed that he had seen him flip trough it the day before too.

''Uhm at nine in the morning,'' he said and Zlatan groaned.

''Why so fucking early!'' he snapped and he buried his head in his hands.

''You are truly not a morning person huh,'' Maxwell joked.  

Zlatan eyed him, slightly annoyed. ''Duh you think?''

''Don't snap your moody attitude at me Zlatan,'' Maxwell was calm and he didn't say it angry at all but Zlatan still knew he crossed the line again.

Normally he would yell stuff back to people who he felt like attacked him, but Maxwell wasn't attacking him, he just told Zlatan where he drew the line with him.

In a nice and calm way that was completely unknown for Zlatan of course.

He was used to telling his own family that they could go to hell, but with Maxwell he could respond to it better, more like an adult.  
Not like an angry, wounded child with a temper.

''So what do you wanna do today?'' Maxwell pondered, after a few minutes of drinking coffee and flipping trough his paper.

''Uhm I don't know, do you have any ideas?'' Zlatan asked.

Surprising himself again, cause normally he would just do whatever he wanted and now he was asking someone else what _they_ wanted to do.

''Well I thought we could take a drive, go see the Dutch landscape or something. Maybe ride trough Amsterdam to see the city, but if you don't like that then its...''

Zlatan cut him off because he loved this idea.

''No, that sounds great Maxi! I love driving in a car, although I don't want to use mine, because I'm actually not even allowed to drive it here in this dumb country,'' he admitted and he felt his cheeks turn red of shame.

''What? Why not?''

''Well it has a Swedish number plate and you cannot drive that around in the Netherlands, I will get fined if I use it. So driving it to your house was already a risk.  
Maybe it will be better to take your car,''

He genuinely hated it that Maxwell had to pay for everything, even his freaking gas.

''Oh I see, yeah that's no problem at all,'' Maxwell said with a comforting smile.

''Yes it is!'' Zlatan didn't mean to burst it out like that but well he was like that.

He was a barrel of gun powder that could explode at any second, all the time.

Somehow he expected Maxwell to get mad, or to be startled.

But he just calmly said, ''what is it Zlatan? Why do you get so upset when we talk about this?''

''Because I hate the fact that you have to pay for everything! Even for the fucking gas in the car.  
And I cannot do anything back for you!  
I feel like a free loader okay!'' Zlatan exploded, trembling slightly.

He took a huge sip of coffee to cool off but half of it streamed down his chin.

''Zlatan, can you please just try to stay calm. It's no problem at all! Not for me. I assure you.  
I don't mind paying for stuff now, if you really feel so bad about it, you can pay me back next month when we get our pay checks. To be honest I don't think this is about the money at all.  
It's about the fact that you have to allow someone to take care of you for once.  
And that scares the living shit out of you.  
To be dependent on someone else. That is completely foreign to you.  
I get that.  
But you can trust me, I'm not out to get you or hurt you in any way. I don't want to profit from you, or take advantage of you.  
I just want your friendship and nothing else,'' Maxwell said, sounding so freaking sincere again that it took Zlatan's breath away.  

The Brazilian poured some more coffee in Zlatan's empty cup.

Zlatan was silent for a long time, unsure what he could say that would be good enough.  

Maxwell poured some milk in the cup and then he suddenly stood next to him placing his warm hand on Zlatan's shoulder.  
The first response he felt in the muscle was tension.

It taught Maxwell that Zlatan's first reaction to a nice gesture was to distrust it, to feel spooked by it.

Just a simple hand on the shoulder told Zlatan that something was wrong and made him ready for an upcoming fight.

Zlatan felt Maxwell's warm hand on his shoulder and after a while of not speaking he started to feel a little better.

He felt himself calm down and the touch had gone from bad to nice and friendly.

Maxwell knew this was the point where he had to push forward.

He sat down next to Zlatan, wrapped his arm around his shoulder and grabbed his hand tight.

He felt the body of the striker clench together again for a second but after a while Zlatan let go and relaxed.

''It's okay, you're okay. Nobody is going to hurt you, I promise,'' Maxwell whispered as he held his hand very tight.

''Why not?''

The question took Maxwell by surprise.

''What do you mean?''

''Why wouldn't you want to hurt me? I'm not a good person Max,''

'I don't believe that. Besides, I won't hurt you because you are already broken enough without me stomping you further into the ground too,'' Maxwell retorted bluntly.

He saw tears shimmering behind Zlatan's dark eyes.

''How do you know that? That I'm broken?''

''Because I see it in your eyes.  
You can let it go you know.  
It's safe to let your wall down in front of me,'' Maxwell vowed and he squeezed Zlatan's shoulder a little.

But of course Zlatan could not let his pain simply slither free, he was no sissy for Christ sake.  
He swallowed his tears away and nodded at Maxwell.

''Thanks Maxi,'' he simply said and then he got up and made some cornflakes.

Maxwell was caught by surprise but he adjusted to Zlatan's personality quickly.

That afternoon they drove in Maxwell's Alfa trough Amsterdam.

They had an amazing time, they went to a big ice cream shop and bought a giant ice cream cone filled with five scoops of Italian ice cream.

They went to the red light district just to wave at the prostitutes through the windows.

Then for dinner they went to a pancake restaurant and had a lot of fun.

The waitress recognized Zlatan just like other people had all day and he wanted an signature and hug and Zlatan pointed out that the guy next to him was going to be a great football star too.

That made Maxwell smile and kind of shy.

''How can you even know that Zlatan? You haven't even seen me play yet,'' Maxwell grinned from behind his bacon pancake.

''Yeah we are going to play on the field tonight, when we get home okay? I want to test your skills,''  

''Fine, bring it on Ibra,'' he said and Zlatan laughed.

''So that will be my nickname?''

''Yeah Ibra sounds more cool somehow. I will call you Ibra,''

''That's fine with me,'' 

After dinner they went back home and Maxwell took them to the football field a few streets behind his house.

They took two balls with them and after five minutes Zlatan realized that Maxwell was way better than him.  
Wait _what?_

A defender had better moves and skills than him?  
Then he realized Maxwell was of course a Brazilian.

He somehow kept on forgetting that.

Maxwell didn't really look much like a Brazilian, because he was white, short and he spoke perfect English.

Zlatan's impression of a stereotypical Brazilian was someone like Ronaldo or Rivaldo.

When he pointed this out Maxwell burst into laughter.

''Come on Ibra, do you think you look much like a typical Swedish guy?'' he yelled as he pounded Zlatan in his side.

Zlatan thought about that for a second and then started bellowing from laughter and they could not stop for several minutes. He hadn't laughed like that in ages, god it felt good. 

He knew that Maxwell was one hundred percent right.

Zlatan looked like an immigrant, like a guy from the Balkan lands, which he was of course.

His parents were immigrants and he grew up in a ghetto where everybody was dark or foreign.

His hair was dark and his eyes were black, and his nose was way too big.

The normal Swedish person was blond, blue eyed and very beautiful.

Zlatan was not any of those.  
Not that he thought so anyway.

After playing football for a few hours they went back inside to shower and relax a little.  
''So how does this game work?'' Zlatan quipped curiously, nodding at the chessboard.

Maxwell looked up from his book ( he was reading ''The once and future king by T.H. White, cause Maxwell loved history books and this one was his favourite ) and sat up from his couch.

''Are you sure you are in the mood to learn it now? I mean it is quite a difficult game. I can't teach it to you in five minutes. '' he said and Zlatan smiled.

''Sure, bring it on,'' he said with his passionate eyes. 

Maxwell sat across from Zlatan and started explaining the rules.

''So this is your king, he is the most crucial piece on the board. If I capture him you lose, if you want to surrender in a game, you drop your king on the board,''

''Hm I would never surrender. But he is kind of like your King Arthur from your book?  
If the king falls everything goes to hell,'' Zlatan mused and Maxwell nodded.

''Yep exactly,''

He started explaining all the other pieces and the rules and Zlatan was sure that this game would not be hard to play at all.

It sounded simple enough to him.

But he always overestimated himself and he also did that now.  
Maxwell had him beat in seven moves. Seven! How _humiliating_. 

Which was not so bad according to Maxwell, since he could usually mate newbies in like five moves.

He had been playing chess ever since he was little and he also had competed in tournaments.

But Zlatan was furious with himself for losing.

''You okay?'' Maxwell asked kindly, shaking a bit, due to the fact that Zlatan still hadn't said anything since he lost the game.

He just sat there burning holes into the pieces, like he tried to figure out what went wrong.

''I'm going to bed, see you tomorrow morning Maxi,''

Zlatan wanted to get up and leave but Maxwell didn't let himself be cast aside like that.

''Wait! Are you mad at me?'' he asked nervously.

Zlatan saw his lip tremble a little and felt his adolescent anger fading away.

''No of course not, I'm just mad at myself. For not being better, for losing.  
I cannot stand losing Maxi! I just hate it okay. When I lose I just don't want to talk to anyone, don't want to hear anything, or see anyone.  
It's nothing personal but I just already hate this game.  
Let's not play it again,''

Zlatan wanted to run op the stairs but Maxi put his hand on his chest, steadying him.

''No I won't let you quit this easily. We will play this game again, because I saw that you liked it.  
You liked the challenge in this game up until the moment you lost. But if you keep going and doing this, someday you will win.  
You _will_ beat me, eventually.  
Just have a little faith in yourself! God you really don't think your worth _anything_ do you?  
You lose one little game and you say to yourself: I'm worthless. I will help you get more confident Ibra.  
You just have to give it some time.  
But you will win someday.  
That I promise you. Just have a little faith,'' Maxwell's voice was so calm and soothing that it stirred something in Zlatan's chest.

He felt himself smile a little.

''Now go to bed, we have an early training and I'm not dealing with your morning temper again tomorrow.  
Get some rest, be a little nicer on yourself and shut up about losing,'' Maxwell spoke with his ever calm voice but still Zlatan did what he said without questioning it.

For some reason he had complete faith in Maxwell. More than he had ever had in anyone before.

After giving Maxwell a tight hug, he went upstairs to go to sleep.  

He could only hope the rest of the team would be so nice too.

 

 

 

 

_TBC....._

 


	3. You need to grow up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zlatan and Maxwell go to their first training and meet someone very arrogant.

 

When Zlatan woke up the next day he yawned for a few minutes.

It was only seven, thirty in the morning and it was like two hours to early for him.  
Maxwell was knocking on his door to make sure he was up.

''Hey Ibra, you awake?''

''Yeah I am, unfortunately,'' Zlatan shouted back and he turned around a little and put his head back on his pillow, groaning furiously.

He felt his eyes fall closed and a few moments later he felt Maxwell's hands on his arm.

''Wake up Ibra! You fell asleep again, it's almost eight o clock!'' he hissed.

Zlatan rubbed his eyes and sat up, yawning loud.

''Here I got you coffee,'' Maxwell beamed as he handed him a cup of steaming coffee and sank down onto his mattress looking coy.

''Thanks Maxi, sorry I fell asleep again,'' he said with a small smile and he took a sip of his hot coffee, savoring the taste.

''It's okay, but you do need to hurry up now. We have to meet the team in an hour, and we still have to drive there, its like a twenty minute drive I guess so just hurry up,'' he said and he left his room to get his stuff ready.

''Yeah yeah, I'm coming,''  Zlatan mumbled and he drank the rest of his coffee, took a quick breakfast with some cornflakes and then sat down in Maxwell's car with another big yawn.

''Lucky for you that football matches are in the evening huh,'' Maxwell joked and Zlatan grinned a little bit.

''Yeah aren't you funny,'' he snapped back, but his eyes were full of joy.

''Yes I can be,''

When they got to the Arena they got out of the car and walked nervously towards their new team members.

The first one who shook their hands was Co Adriaanse, Zlatan smiled politely at him but he was unsure about this trainer.  
He had heard some nasty stories about him being a dictator on the field.

The second one who shook their hands was a Brazilian called Wamberto.  
Maxwell liked him instantly, he was small, dark and had friendly eyes and a big smile.

It made Maxwell feel like he was home in Brazil.  
Zlatan liked Mido instantly, he was a tough guy like him.

A problem child, with a tough childhood and a big mouth.  
Zlatan loved people like that.

When he thought about it, he realized that Maxwell was not someone he would usually hang out with, since he was such a nice and good guy.

Then another guy walked towards them and shook their hands.

''Rafael van der Vaart,'' he said with an arrogant attitude.  
''Zlatan and this is Maxwell,'' Zlatan said, who nodded at Maxwell.

''Hm interesting,'' he said and then he walked off.

''Okay he was weird, and kind of arrogant,'' Zlatan snorted.  

He stared at Rafael with those angry Rosengard eyes.

''Yeah kind of, but don't judge him yet okay, maybe he was just intimidated by you,'' Maxwell said wisely,voice stern.

Before Zlatan could respond training started and they started to warm up.

When they were finished they played against each other in two teams.

Zlatan and Maxwell were in opposite teams and Zlatan was again very impressed with the skills of his little friend.  
He covered him very well, and gave him a run for his money.

Zlatan kicked a ball away when he felt a sharp pain in his legs and before he knew it he was lying on the grass.

Rafael had tackled him from behind with two legs and mumbled a soft apology.

''What the fuck was that for dude! The ball wasn't even around!'' Maxwell fumed.

Zlatan had never seen him this angry before.

''What! I said I was sorry didn't I? It's a fucking training match!  
He needs to grow up and get some stones, if he can't handle this then he should go back home to his little trashy family,''  Rafael said with a mean smirk.  

Zlatan felt the fury rising in his chest to dangerous highs, ready to explode.

''WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY FAMILY?!'' he screamed and he wanted to kick the crap out of that arrogant shit, but Maxwell stood between them with his hands on his chest.

''Ibra calm down please, just walk away okay,''

But Zlatan couldn't calm down, he tried to shove Maxwell aside but the defender would not budge.

''Can someone please help me!'' Maxwell begged.

Mido ran up and pulled Rafael away.

''Fucking asshole, for what you said I should let you go and let him kick your ass,'' Mido sneered, with his furious Egyptian eyes.

More people came between the angry men and Maxwell took Zlatan away from the frenzy.

''Come on, lets go home,'' he whispered and he grabbed his arm and dragged him to his car.

''Wait a second there gentlemen,''

Co Adriaanse followed them.

Maxwell stopped moving and waited impatiently.

''If you pull something like this again Zlatan I will give you a fine,\'

''Give _me_ a fine? For what?  
He insulted my entire family and he tackled me from behind. If he did that on the field he would have been sent off with red card.  
And you want to give me a fine? In what fucked up world does that make any sense?'' Zlatan bellowed and Maxwell sighed, clearly aggravated by the whole situation.

''Look sir, can I please just take him home. He doesn't mean it like this.  
He is just very angry right now and he needs to have some rest,'' Maxwell was a very skilled negotiator and he always had control of situations.

''Okay then, take him home but please make sure he behaves next time,'' Adriaanse chided.

Maxwell literally felt Zlatan tense up again and he knew he wanted to scream at his new coach.

''Come on, we're going. Now,'' Maxwell grabbed Zlatan's arm again and sat him down in his car.

Zlatan was silent for a long time and Maxwell decided to wait till he wanted to talk.

His face was red and his eyes were completely icy and red.

''Who the hell does he think he is?'' Zlatan reeled after a few minutes and the venom in his voice scared the living shit out of Maxwell.

He almost lost control of the steering wheel.

''Fuck man, don't get us into an accident,'' he growled.  
''Sorry, but I'm right about him aren't I?'' Zlatan said.

Maxwell could only agree.

''Yeah he was totally out of line. I mean what the hell got into him?!  
You did nothing wrong, and he just tackles you like that, he could have broken both of your legs.  
And then he insults your family.  
That's just over the line,'' Maxwell sighed and grabbed the steering wheel tight, wrapping his fingers around it pretending it was Rafael's neck.

''You should have let me kill that bastard Maxi.  
If you weren't there I would have kicked the crap out of that piece of shit!'' 

''Yeah and then what Ibra? Hmm?  
You would have gotten an even bigger fine, and all the people would say that you are the biggest loser alive, and that Ajax should have never bought you. You need to think before you act sometimes.  
Just kicking the crap out of a rival is fine when you are very young, but you are nineteen now.  
I know you come from a background where its normal to behave like that. But the rest of the world doesn't like fights so much.  
You were right to stand up to him, he was completely out of line.  
But you cannot just smash the heads in of people you don't like, not in our line of work,'' Maxwell said and he drove his car up the driveway and stepped out.

Zlatan said nothing and when he got home he threw his gym bag on the floor as loud as he could and he wanted to smash the whole house to pulp.

''I have something for you, I bought it last night when you were sleeping,'' Maxwell said.

Zlatan looked up with a little curiosity in his eyes.  
''What is it?''

''I hung it in your room,''

Zlatan ran up the stairs and when he entered his room he saw a boxing ball hanging there on a line.

''Oh my god! You're the best Maxi!!'' he yelled and he saw Maxwell smile at him from the door opening.

He hugged his friend tightly and felt Maxwell's warm arms around his side.

Zlatan wasn't the type of guy who liked hugs, but he loved the fact that Maxi bought him something that he could truly use right now.

It was like he had read his mind, it was also a sign that Maxwell knew him well already.

''Thank you Maxi, I really appreciate this.  
It's just what I need right now, a way to get rid of my anger,'' he stroked Maxwell's hair gently and hugged him tight one last time.

Then he let him go and Maxwell smiled.

''You're welcome mister dynamite,'' he teased and Zlatan snickered.

Maxwell left him to it and Zlatan kicked the living hell out of this boxing ball.

He slapped it with his fists, he kicked it as hard as he could, then when he was empty he laid his head against it and felt like crying for a long time.

But he refused to let go of course.

When he had showered Maxwell was in the kitchen making lunch.

''What are you cooking?'' he asked when he smelled the nice cooking smell.

''Pancakes, I hope you like mine, since these aren't from a restaurant like yesterday,'' Maxwell said shyly, as he stared at the pancakes in the frying pan.

''Sure I love your pancakes,''

''Sit down, this is the last one, then we can eat,'' Maxwell flipped the last pancake and checked it's colour.

Zlatan sat down at the already set table and took a sip of the coffee.

''So did you got rid of your angry energy?'' asked Maxwell when he shoved the pancake on Zlatan's plate.

Zlatan's eyes were gleaming with joy. ''I sure did, man that felt good. Just to kick the crap out of that thing and just imagine that it was that bastard's face. Thanks by the way, for making lunch,''

''Sure no problem. I'm glad you got rid of that bad energy.  
So what do you wanna do the rest of the day?'' Maxwell asked.

Zlatan gnawed on his lower lip and smiled a little.

''This is absolutely _delicious_ Maxi,'' he complimented.

''Thanks,''

''Well I thought about playing some games on my Playstation. Gears of war is an awesome game, have you played it before?'' he asked and Maxwell shook his head.

''No but I'm sure you can teach me,''

Zlatan was highly addicted to gaming and he knew that Maxwell was not like that.  
He didn't even own a Playstation.

Maxwell loved to read, or play chess.

So after lunch they went to the Zlatan's room and played the game for hours.

It was totally addicting to Zlatan but Maxwell only played it to make Zlatan feel better.

After three hours Maxwell suggested that it was time to make dinner.

''Oh sorry I totally forgot about the time.  
Guess I really am addicted to this fucking game huh,'' mumbled Zlatan.

''No it's okay, you don't have to apologize. If this is your way of getting rid of the anger then I think it's a much healthier way then to kick the crap out of your team mates,'' he said and he saw Zlatan smile.

''Point taken. So what do you want to eat for dinner?''

 

 

 

 

_TBC...._


	4. Everything falls apart.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell undergoes a terrible personal tragedy and Zlatan, to his own surprise is being a great support.

 

''Checkmate Ibra, again,'' Maxwell smirked.

Zlatan sighed, already aggravated with himself for losing again.

It was few weeks after their first training and first games and despite the fact that they had received their salary, Zlatan had not moved out of Maxwell's house.  
He had paid him back every cent he owed him and Maxwell had offered Zlatan to stay in his house for as long as he liked.

Truth was that Zlatan and Maxwell had both grown up in busy households.  
Therefore living alone was not something they particularly enjoyed.

Zlatan actually _liked_ living with Maxwell, they had a lot of fun together and he was always there to kick him out of his bed in the mornings.  
They played chess a lot in the evenings when Zlatan had finished with his Playstation addiction.

Tonight was no different.  
Zlatan sat on his favorite lazy chair by the fireplace gazing over his black pawns on the chessboard, realizing for a few minutes that he had lost again.

''Just give it up, you can never win anymore,'' Maxwell said, curling his lips up with a sly smirk.

Zlatan laid his king down on the board. ''Fine, you win. Tomorrow I shall beat you then,''

Maxwell smiled deeply, Zlatan promised him that every day.

Then the phone rang and Zlatan who sat next to it offered it to Maxwell but he shook his head.  
''I told you, you can answer it too! Half the people who call here want to speak to you,''

''Okay fine,''

Zlatan answered the phone with his name in English and heard a woman on the other end of the line.

''Hello? Who is this?''  
''Zlatan who is this?'' Zlatan knew he was sounding a bit arrogant.

''Maxwell's mother, is he there?'' the woman asked, in shaky English.

''Oh I'm so sorry, yes he is. Hold on,'' Zlatan felt his face turn dark out of shame and he handed the phone to Maxwell who took another sip of his white whine.

Maxwell started talking in Portuguese to his mother and Zlatan saw his face turn white as a blanket.  
Total shock and disbelief fell over his friends face and he saw his eyes fill up with tears.

Maxwell's hands were shaking and he dropped the phone out of his hands and fell down on the floor while screaming in agony.

Zlatan didn't know what was going on but he knew Maxwell very well now and he saw immediately that something was terribly wrong.  
He sat down next to his friend, turned the phone off and placed his hands on either side of his friends face.

''What happened Maxi? Please tell me,'' he begged.

Maxwell looked up and hiccuped a few times, while wiping his tears away with his sleeves.

''It's my brother, Diego. He-uhm-he got in a car accident and he is brain dead. So they-want to pull-the plug on him in a few days.  
My mother wants me to be there when they do it, but I'm not sure if I can bear it to have to bury my baby brother...'' Maxwell had to push the words out of his mouth, he felt completely numb and was certain that his heart was going to explode from anger and disbelief.

Zlatan felt his eyes fill up with tears and compassion for his friend.

''Oh Maxi, I'm sorry. This is so unfair and so terrible.  
Come here, fuck, I'm so sorry,'' Zlatan choked out.  

He cradled Maxi's fragile body against his own and held him in his arms for a long time while his friends just laid there crying his heart out.

And finally he could release his own tears and pain.  
He cried for a long time together with Maxi and he felt his friend tremble in his arms.

''It's just so fucking unfair!! My brother was such a great person, so loyal, so sweet and caring.  
To get hit by a drunk driver and to die like this, its just not fucking fair!! I hate him!  
I wish he were dead instead of my baby brother!  
That stupid piece of shit killed my brother!!'' Maxwell screamed and he let Zlatan go and kicked the chessboard trough the air.

Zlatan saw the black and white pieces tumbling through the air, landing everywhere.  
''You're crying Zlatan,'' Maxi noticed dryly.

Zlatan conceded a nod.

''Yeah I finally have a reason to cry now.  
I could never let go and felt weak for wanting to cry but now, it just doesn't seem to matter anymore.  
Staying strong and acting tough just seems so futile and stupid now.  
Come on, lets go upstairs,'' Zlatan said sternly, as he dragged Maxwell to his feet.

''No I don't wanna go anywhere, just leave me alone,'' he snapped but Zlatan would not let himself be cast aside like this.

Maxwell always took care of him, now it was his turn to return the favor.

''No come on, I know what you need right now. Get your ass upstairs!'' Zlatan ordered, eyes dark.

He dragged Maxwell upstairs and gave him his boxing gloves and pointed at the boxing bag.

''Go at it, you will feel a little less angry when you're done with that.  
It won't take the pain away, but it might help with the anger a little. I will hold it for you,'' he offered en he walked behind the bag and held it steady.

Maxwell said nothing just looked at the gloves in his hands and put them on without saying a word.

He flew into the boxing bag with a fury and pain that Zlatan had never seen in his eyes before.

He stomped the crap out of the damned thing, kicking it, punching it, released all his hatred and anger and he cried when he realized that his anger had sunken down a little.

He also noticed that he had beaten up Zlatan a little too, he had a bruised lip, and a few bruises on his arms but he never said anything.

''Oh god, I hurt you!'' Maxwell exclaimed. He quickly put the gloves away, staring at them as if they were evil.

''I'm _fine_ Maxi, this is nothing compared to the pain you feel.  
It's nothing okay! Don't go feeling all guilty now, I gave you what you needed,'' Zlatan chided and he hugged Maxwell tight, feeling his friend grab him tightly against his chest.

''Please come with me to Brazil,'' he heard Maxwell plea after a second.

''Are you serious?'' Zlatan gaped with wide eyes.

''Yes I can't do this alone, I can't bury him alone and go on such a long trip by myself. I need my best friend with me.  
I will pay your ticket if you like,'' he offered but Zlatan shook his head.

''Don't be crazy Maxi, I can pay for my own ticket, but _why_  would you want me there?  
I'm not family, and I have never met your brother. Won't your family think it's weird that you take me with you?''

''I don't care about that, and my family is very loving and open. They will only be happy for me if I can bring a true friend with me for support.  
Please Zlatan, come with me,'' Maxwell begged.  

He wiped his face again with his sleeves but they were drenched with his hot tears.

Zlatan got up and walked to the bathroom and got a towel and dampened it.  
He cleaned Maxwell's face and held it in his hands.

''Of course I will go with you. If that is what you need, than I will go.  
I'm here for you Maxi.  
Whatever you need, ask for it and its yours,'' he offered and Maxwell kissed his cheeks.

''Thanks you are the best friend I have ever had. Can you do me a favor?''

''Of course,''

''Can you stay with me tonight, in my room. I just don't want to sleep alone.  
I need someone next to me to know that I'm still alive and breathing,''

Zlatan's heart stopped for a second and fear got a hold of him.

He was not used to this kind of shit.  
He had never shared a bed with a man before and he had no intention to start now.

In his family sentiment like this was considered to be weak.

But he had promised Maxwell that he would get whatever he needed.

''Okay Maxi, we will do that,'' he said with his voice trembling from nerves.

''Go lay in bed, I will get some water for you,''

Maxwell stumbled to his bedroom resembling a zombie and fell down on his bed and cried his eyes out.

His head was pounding and he felt sick whenever he thought about his brother.

Zlatan entered the room and fed Maxwell some water, and then he laid down on the bed next to his friend.

He saw Maxwell shaking from his tears and knew that he needed to calm him down a little.

So he scooted in closer and wrapped his arms around his friends side.

He put his head against Maxwell's back and held him tight.

They didn't say anything, they didn't have to.

But Maxwell did calm down even though he didn't sleep all night.

Zlatan fell asleep a couple times and had never felt so safe and secure in his entire life.  
The next morning they went to the travel agency to book two tickets to Rio for the next day.

They had called up Co Adriaanse and told him what happened.

He sympathized of course, but gave Zlatan another fine for going with Maxwell to Rio.

He felt like that was disrespectful towards the team, since they would miss two games.

Zlatan told him to go to hell and hung up the phone.

The next day they flew to Brazil and Zlatan was feeling very anxious.  
He had never been to a funeral before, or to a hospital to unplug someone.

The flight in was very long and exhausting.

Maxwell talked about his brothers a lot, he always did that.

But now he liked to get back old memories of the things they had done together and Zlatan loved to hear those stories.

''So what is it like, Brazil?'' Zlatan quipped, when the pilot just told them that they started their landing procedure.  
Maxwell sat by the window and looked outside to the blue sea and smiled.

''It's the country where I grew up, the place where all cultures live together in harmony and peace. The place where everyone is friendly, open and warm.  
The country where music and football are a true way of living. As sacred as religion.   
Where you go through hell and back for a stranger. Brazil is the best place in the world.  
It has such a strange power this country.  
You will notice that when you are here. Everyone who has been here misses it when they go back.  
Brazil is the only place where being yourself is safe and where everyone's craziness is out in the open,'' Maxwell mused, looking dreamy as a child.  

Zlatan saw the first true smile appear on his face in days.

''Sounds like you've missed it a lot,'' Zlatan noticed and he leaned in to the window to see the view of Rio a little better.

''Yes I have, how awful that I have to come back for burying...'' Maxwell could not finish his sentence but he didn't need to.  
Zlatan took his hand and squeezed it gently.

''Keep breathing Maxi, I'm here for you,''

They left the plane and went to the hotel.

The sea breeze did Maxwell good, he loved everything about Rio and he finally felt a little better now that he was home.

It was a warm day in Rio and the skies were clear.

They checked into the hotel close to the beach of Copacabana and went to the tenth floor and placed their suitcases in the room.

Then they relaxed there for a little while before going to the hospital to meet up with Maxwell's family.

To be honest: Zlatan was dreading it, he never really liked meeting new people and he was not sure how to handle situations like these.

''You ready to go?'' Maxwell asked when he changed into his dark jeans and a black polo shirt.

''Yes I'm ready,'' Zlatan lied and Maxwell saw the fear in his eyes.

''It will be okay, don't worry. My family won't object that I bring you to see him,''

''I just-can't-be-in-the-room-when-it happens-Maxi-I can't,'' Zlatan stammered.

''I understand that, I just want you to come with me, but you can leave the room whenever you want.  
But _please_ come with me,''

''I will come with you,'' sighed Zlatan and they got into a cab and drove to the hospital.  
''You okay?'' Maxwell preened when he had paid the cab driver and saw Zlatan become as pale as a ghost.

''Yeah I just- _really_ hate hospitals.  
When I was a child I was very sick once and needed an epidural and I hated everything about that fucking hospital.  
It was such an awful place. But screw it, this is not about me now okay!  
It's about Diego today,'' Zlatan mumbled.

He walked toward the room where Maxwell's family had gathered, legs slightly unstable.

They entered the room carefully and calm and Zlatan wanted to shuffle away but Maxwell took his arm and led him inside.  
''Mom, Dad, Renato!'' Maxwell cried when he saw his family huddled by his brothers bed.

They flew into his arms and held him for a long time, whilst sobbing their eyes out.

Maxwell looked just like his mother, he had the same eyes, same hair color and the same face.

Zlatan stepped out of the room to give them some privacy and looked at Diego with a nauseous feeling in his stomach.

Diego looked very peaceful, he had long blond hair and his eyes were closed.

He was breathing trough a tube in his mouth and was hooked on a lot of machines.

Zlatan sat down on the floor and cried for a few minutes, he just couldn't hold back his tears anymore.

He was crying a lifetime worth of tears.

Maxwell's mother Maria asked for Zlatan and Maxwell said that he didn't know where he was.

Maria stepped out of the room and saw the young man sitting on the floor, sobbing his eyes out.  
She looked at him, smiled sadly and knelt down next to him.

''I'm so sorry for your loss, so sorry!'' Zlatan wailed and he buried his head in his lap.  
Maria stretched out her arm and took Zlatan's hand.

''Thank you for coming here, for supporting my son through this. You are a true friend for him,'' she said and then she gave him a hug.

Zlatan didn't even feel weird about that, it just felt natural to hold her. Which didn't make any sense. 

They went back into the room and he met Maxwell's father and brother and then the family gathered to say their goodbye's.  
Zlatan left the room under everyone's protest, but he didn't care.

This was not his place to be here now.

They were a family who were losing their son, and their brother.

He didn't lose anything, so he did not belong in that room.

He heard them put the machine off and after a while he heard the machine peeping.  
He knew that it was over when he saw Maxwell come out of the hospital room with red and puffy eyes.

Maxwell walked to Zlatan like an old man and he put his head on his friends chest, Zlatan wrapped his arms around him and held his sobbing friend.

The next day the funeral would be held.  
Diego wanted to be buried at the cemetery by the sea at twilight.

He always talked about that to Maxwell and Renato, since Diego loved the sea.  
He also loved the full moon and it was just fate that next evening there would be a full moon and a clear sky.

The funeral was beautiful.

Maxwell, Renato and his parents carried the coffin and Zlatan walked behind it with some more family members and friends, who were all extremely kind to him.  
They put Diego into the ground when the moon was just showing in the clear sky.

Zlatan had thought of a plan too and had made folded paper boats filled with a candle in each of them, and he had given one to everybody.

So when the coffin was in the dark earth, everybody put their little boats on the water and the sea was lit up by the fifty candles in the small boats.

Maxwell stood next to Zlatan and placed his arm around his waist.

''Thank you Zlatan, this was so beautiful. He would have loved this goodbye,'' he said with a watery smile.  
''You're very welcome Maxi,''

Tomorrow they would go to Maxwell's parents house and in three days they would fly home.

But right now, Maxwell finally felt at peace.

His brother was gone, and it had left a huge hole in his heart.

A hole that could never be mended or filled.

He would never be whole again.

But thanks to this goodbye maybe one day he would get over it a little.

 

 


	5. Passover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell adjusts to live without his brother and decides to take Zlatan to a nightclub in Rio.

_November 15th 2001. Rio de Janeiro, Brasil_

 

 

Zlatan was lying wide awake in his hotel bed and sighed deeply.  
He checked his alarm and saw that it was four in the morning.

It was two days after Diego's funeral and Maxwell was asleep in the bed next to him, he was snoring very loudly.

Usually Zlatan would give him a little smack to wake him up, but he could not do that to his friend now.

This was the first time Maxwell had slept trough the night since his brother had died.

He did not have the heart to wake his friend up so he got up and sneaked out of the room.

When he walked to the elevator his mind drifted off to the last few days.

They had been extremely hard on Maxwell.  
He had not eaten anything, or slept, he just wanted to sit in his room and he cried a lot.

After a day Zlatan knew that he had to eat something so he had ordered some cornflakes downstairs and poured it in a bowl with some milk.

He had sat Maxwell down at the table and shoved the bowl towards his friend, but Maxwell shook his head.  
''Come on Maxi, you have to eat something! You will starve, and I won't let that happen.  
Now open your mouth and eat this, you will feel a little better.  
I promise,'' he said and he grabbed the spoon and brought it to his friend's mouth. He felt like he was feeding a reluctant child.

Maxwell shook his head again but when he saw Zlatan's harsh look, he finally opened his mouth and let Zlatan feed him like he was a baby bird.

When Maxwell had finished the bowl he laid back down on his bed and started crying again.

Zlatan had laid down next to him and held him tight.

He had slept next to Maxwell both nights because Maxwell had requested that from him, and he had slept a little but he knew Maxwell had been awake for two nights.

When Zlatan finally got downstairs he walked to the sleepy receptionist and asked for some earplugs and an extra pillow.  
He walked back to the elevator and sneaked back into the room on his toes.

Even though he had bitched and moaned to Maxwell about sleeping in his bed a lot, he found that now that he was in his own bed, that he missed lying against Maxwell's back.

So he got an extra pillow and held that in his arms.

It wasn't the same but who cared.  
He was kind of ashamed about it, he looked like some soft ass pussy.

But Maxwell calmed him, he always did and laying against his friend always was a guarantee that Zlatan could sleep without nightmares.

He never had those when he slept next to Maxwell.  
Not that they slept in the same bed a lot, it wasn't like that.

They had only done it a few times, and only because Maxwell was sad and needed some support.

Zlatan put his earplugs in his ears and held on to the pillow and weird as it may have been, it worked.

He fell asleep at last.  
When he woke up he saw the sunlight coming trough the curtains.

He yawned loud and took his earplugs out of his ears.

When he turned around he saw Maxwell sitting at the table with a glass of water in front of him and a paper in his hand.

''Morning sleepyhead, didn't figure you for a pillow cuddling person,'' Maxwell said, with a small smile.

Zlatan felt the blood rush to his cheeks and swallowed a little, he quickly tugged the pillow away behind his head.

''Morning, so how did you sleep?'' he asked, mostly to change the subject.

''Pretty good actually.  
I'm still kind of tired, but I feel a little better,'' Maxwell got up and handed Zlatan a glass of water.

''Thanks, good to hear Maxi. Do you want me to order breakfast?'' Zlatan asked and he took big sips of water.

''No it's okay, I thought maybe we could go downstairs for breakfast.  
And maybe to the beach later. It's a nice day out and I'm dying to swim in the sea.  
I mean if that is what you like as well?'' Maxwell suggested, who suddenly seemed very insecure when he saw Zlatan's shocked face.

''No I just, I'm surprised that you wanna go out.  
But I'm happy about it! Sure I would love to go for a swim later.  
I love swimming!'' Zlatan experienced his first real grin in a few days.

''Me too, I love everything about the water. Being underwater always makes me feel a little less empty you know?'' Maxwell asked

Zlatan nodded.

That was _exactly_ the way he always felt underwater.  
  


''I'll go shower and then we go eat breakfast okay?'' he said and Maxwell smiled.  
''Okay Ibra,''

After breakfast they headed down to the beach and laid their towels down on the hot sand.

Zlatan laid down on his back and put his sunglasses on.  
He loved the sea breeze on his face and the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore.

He was just drifting of to sleep when he heard Maxwell's voice.  
''Ibra? Can you put some sunblock on my back? I burn easily,''

''Are you kidding me? Ask some woman to do it Maxi.  
I think sleeping in the same bed with you has been enough for me the last few days,'' snapped Zlatan but he regretted saying it immediately.

He was _such_ an asshole.

Lashing out to people when they came to close was typical for him, but he knew he was being an ass.

''Fine,'' was all Maxwell said but his eyes went a little wet when he stormed off to a lady next to them and asked her in Portuguese if she wanted to put the sunblock on.

Zlatan sighed and smashed his fists in the hot sand.

Why was he always such a hard ass?

He was sorry that he pushed Maxwell away, but that was just what he did when he was afraid and when he actually started caring about someone.

When he had to let down the big wall that was around him.  
The wall was safe though, don't ever let anyone get over it, cause if you do they can hurt you.

But he had already let Maxwell over his wall a long time ago.

He knew that it was safe to let him in.  
So why was he being like this now?

What had changed?

He wasn't sure but he hated himself for being such a jerk to his best friend, while he knew that he just lost his brother.

Maxwell talked to the young woman for a while and then he came back and without saying a word he put the sunblock in the bag and stormed of into the sea.

Zlatan kept a close eye on him, cause he was sure that Maxwell was going to do something stupid.  
He saw his friend's head pop up a few times and then go under again.

After a while he couldn't see Maxwell anymore and fear and panic got a hold of his heart.  
He jumped up and stormed to the water.

Maybe Maxi got taken by the strong current, maybe he was eaten by a fucking shark.

''Max!! Where the fuck are you?!'' he screamed while he waded trough the water, that kept on getting deeper and deeper.  
The salt water stung in his eyes and it narrowed his vision.

This was _not_ happening, it was just not real!  
Then he saw two arms pop up ahead of him, but he knew that it was still very far away.

''Hold on Maxi!! I'm coming!!!'' he shouted and he swam as fast as he could.

But the current was pulling him back and he felt himself get pulled under a few times.

When he finally came up for air he coughed for a few minutes.  
He was out of breath and he felt his strength fading away.

But he could not quit now, he needed to find Maxi.

No chance in hell that his family had to bury their other son too in a few days.  
He saw the arms come back up again and he knew he was almost there.

When he finally reached his struggling friend he was completely exhausted.

''Come on Max, I got you,'' he said and he pulled his friend up over his shoulder and began to swim the long way back to the beach.  
But it was very far, and Maxi's weight was heavy on him.

He was not a heavy guy but he could not hold him on his shoulders.  
So he held Maxi in his arms and started swimming back slowly.

''Hold on, were almost there!'' he said and he saw Maxwell nod a little.

When they finally were back among other swimmers he called for help and some other people helped them back to the beach.

Maxwell kept on coughing and Zlatan saw how two men laid his friend down on his towel.

''I got this guys, thanks for helping!'' he croaked and the men said something he could not understand and took off.  
Zlatan laid down next to Maxwell and checked his eyes.

''You stupid idiot! I thought you were fucking dead!!  
Don't _ever_ scare me like that again, you hear me!!'' he screamed and he tugged Maxwell away in his arms.

''I'm sorry Ibra. I thought I could make it, but the current was too strong.  
So I fought, but then I though: why should I stay alive? So I kind of gave up a little.  
But then I heard your voice in the dark.  
And I realized that you needed me to stay alive,'' whispered Maxwell and he put his head against Zlatan's chest.

''Of course I need you to stay alive!  
How can you doubt that?'' Zlatan snapped, completely in shock.

''I don't doubt that, I just was unsure about myself I guess.  
I feel so empty Ibra.  
I lost my brother and I just saw no point in living anymore. But I know I should stick around.  
And I don't want to die, not really. This was not a suicide attempt.  
I just gave up for a while.  
And I'm sorry for that okay. Please forgive me,'' Maxwell exasperated.

He brought his hand to Zlatan's cheek.

It send a shiver down Zlatan's spine.

He ignored it and pulled away from Maxwell's.

''Of course I forgive you, but no more swimming for you today. And if you ever scare me like that again, I will stomp you into the ground!  
You hear me Maxi?'' he snapped and Maxwell gave him a small grin.

''I hear you. The whole beach has heard you,''

''Fuck them, they can't understand me anyway,''

They spent the rest of the afternoon just lying in the sun talking about Diego and childhood pranks that Maxwell had pulled on his parents with his brothers.

Maxwell pulled a deck of cards out of his bag and offered to teach Zlatan his favorite card game.

It had a name Zlatan could not pronounce no matter how hard he tried, plus it was difficult to learn but after a while he got the hang of it and found it quite fun.

''How come we never played this before Maxi?''

''Well it's a typical Brazilian game, and I kind of forgot about it to be honest.  
Me and my brothers could play this for hours, it would drive mum crazy sometimes,'' he said with a small smile and Zlatan saw a lonely tear escape his brown eyes.

''Want some more Acai?'' Zlatan offered, mostly to cheer Maxwell up.

''Sure, I hate it that they don't have that in Holland,'' grinned Maxwell and Zlatan walked to the cafe to get some frozen Acai drinks.

It was like crushed ice with the Acai berry's in it.

Zlatan loved the taste and drank like four of those drinks a day.

He walked back to their towels and gave Maxwell his drink.

''You wanna go out tonight?'' Maxwell suggested, after a while where he only sat there staring at the ocean.

The sun was going under really quickly now and Maxwell had always loved sunsets.  
''Are you sure you're up for that?'' Zlatan wondered, with a surprised look.

''Yeah I think it will be good for me, just to let go of all the stress of these last few days. Just to dance and have fun.  
That is the Brazilian way to deal with grieve,music and dancing is our salvation.  
And I know a few nice clubs in this area,'' he grinned, so Zlatan shrugged his shoulders.

''Okay fine, we will go,''

When the sun had set they left the beach and went for a shower in their room.

Maxwell was taking a very long time to get ready as usual and Zlatan got slightly annoyed when he had been ready to go for an hour and Maxwell was still working on his hair.

''Still not ready? My god, its like I'm going out with a girl!'' he snapped and Maxwell grinned at him.

''Relax Ibra, were in Brazil! Things move a little slower here then in organized Holland or Sweden.  
And I wanna look nice, if that's okay with you?'' he fired back and Zlatan sighed.

''Fine Posh, but do hurry up will you.  
It's almost eleven pm,'' he complained, tabbing his watch impatiently.

When Maxwell was finally done he checked his mirror one last time and then led Zlatan to his favorite club in Rio: the Help.

It was quite famous, and it had existed for ages now.

Maxwell loved it because the music was always so amazing and the drinks were cheap.

Zlatan felt a little on edge first and not in the right place, because these Brazilians had some moves on the dance floor.

He rarely went out to clubs and was unsure of himself on how to dance, since he knew that he could never move his hips like these Brazilians could.

So he walked to the bar to get a drink and stayed there for a while.  
Observing his friend who was moving with a smoothness in his hips that really impressed Zlatan a lot.

Maxwell moved so fluent, so pure, he just could not stop staring at the way he danced.

He could tell that all the troubles and pain fell of his friend's shoulders for a moment and he totally enjoyed seeing that.

Maxwell had made friends with a woman and two men on the dance floor and Zlatan saw him having a great time.  
But Maxwell walked up to him after a while and smirked a little.

''Why aren't you dancing Ibra? Not your kind of music?'' he asked while ordering another cocktail.  
A Piña Colada this time.

''Yeah it is, but I just, never danced before. And you guys all move so smooth.  
I just don't wanna look stupid okay!!'' he yelled in Maxwell's ear.

''And shouldn't you stop drinking?! This is like your fifth drink of the night and we have only been here for an hour and a half!''

''Look if I wanna get drunk, then I will do that!  
You're _not_ my father Ibra!  
And second of all, I will teach you how to dance. Come on,'' he screamed and he grabbed Zlatan's arm and dragged him to the dance floor.

They almost hit a drunk couple on their way, the woman was dressed in an extremely short skirt, and her red bra was showing trough her top.

Zlatan had no intention to take dancing lessons from Maxwell but his friend kept on dragging him forward.

'No Maxi! I don't wanna!!  
Come on, just let me go!!'' he snapped but he was sure Maxwell hadn't heard him.

He just kept on dragging him to a more quiet space on the dance floor.

''Okay so lesson one: movement!  
Just start off with stepping from left to right, like this,'' Maxwell explained.

He moved from one foot to the other, and clapped his hands in the process.

Zlatan had to laugh, this was looking kind of ridiculous.

But nobody seemed to pay attention to them anyway so he did what Maxwell did.  
The wine gave him a little extra courage.

Why should he care about the people around him?  
They were in Brazil and he would never see those people again.

Maxwell nodded and raised his thumbs and Zlatan smiled.  
This was actually a lot of fun.

But then Maxwell decided to step up the game a notch.

''Okay so lesson two: move those hips! Can't dance in Brazil without moving your hips!  
Like this see,'' Maxwell placed his hands on Zlatan's hips and tried to move them from left to right, but this was getting a little to intimate for Zlatan so he pulled back.

''That's enough Maxi! I think I will stick to lesson one for today!''

Maxwell shrugged his shoulders casually and got another cocktail for himself and one for Zlatan.

He took a sip and almost gagged.

The level of alcohol in the drink was immense and disgusting, and he felt immediately drunk.  
''What the hell is this?! This is so disgusting!!'' he screamed in Maxwell's ear.

''It's a Cairprinha! Typically Brazilian,''

''It's so bitter! Can we go home now?'' he sighed and he put his cocktail glass back on the bar.

''No I wanna stay a little longer! You can go if you are tired of me, I don't care what you do!'' 

That hurt Zlatan a lot but he knew that he was only being mean cause he was drunk and in pain over his brother.

''Fine, you go dance! I'll wait here till you done!' 'he screamed and Maxwell ran of and danced with the girl he had met before.

Zlatan just sat at the bar, keeping a close eye on his friend.

No chance in hell he would go home.  
He saw the boyfriend of the girl Maxi was dancing with come back and before he knew it Maxwell had gotten himself into a fight.

Zlatan saw his friend being pounded to the ground by a very big and aggressive Brazilian and he rushed towards him and pulled Maxwell off the floor before he could get back into the fight.

''Just let me go Ibra!  
I wanna kill him!!'' screamed Maxwell but Zlatan saw tears in his eyes.

''No you don't, come on were going home,''

Zlatan pulled Maxwell up and put his body over his shoulder.

He dragged him all the way home and when they finally got to the hotel room Maxwell had to throw up in the toilet.

Zlatan sat by his side, gently stroking his back and holding his hair out of his face.  
''Come on,''

He carried Maxwell to his bed and cleaned the vomit of his face with a wet towel.

''Drink this,'' he ordered and he fed Maxwell a lot of water.

''Thanks Ibra,'' hiccuped Maxwell and then his friend hugged him very tight.

After a few minutes Zlatan realized that Maxwell had fallen asleep with his face against his shoulder.

So he put Maxwell down on the bed and wanted to go to his own bed, but Maxwell grabbed his arm and wrapped it tightly around his waist.  
Zlatan smiled a little.

At least he would have no nightmares tonight.

The next morning Maxwell had the worst hangover of his life.

The only thing he could remember was that Zlatan had been there for him all night long.  
And that was the only thing that mattered.

 

 


	6. Christmas morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its Maxwell first Christmas without his brother and with Zlatan in his life.  
> But he is in a terrible mood.

_Christmas morning 2001._

 

 

 

''Wake up Maxi, it's Christmas,''

Zlatan gently gave Maxwell a little push to wake his sleeping friend.

Usually it was the other way around, but since they had been back from Brazil, Maxwell had been a pain in everybody's ass.

If Zlatan had not been there to wake him up, he would have never been on time to training and he had grown increasingly sloppy in his games.

Co Adriaanse rarely played with Maxwell, but he didn't seem to care about anything anymore.

Maxwell went to training and did his job but nothing more, when he came home he just locked himself in his room and Zlatan heard him call his mum a lot.  
He also heard him cry himself to sleep many times.

Zlatan was unsure about how to handle his friend and he hated to see him struggle so much. But he wasn't good with this, with human grief and emotions. He had never been raised with empathy. Comforting someone was not his forte. 

Sometimes when he heard Maxwell wailing he went into the room and slept next to him, just holding him tight.

The next morning he would slip out before Maxwell was up, he wasn't even sure if Maxwell knew that he had been sleeping there cause he never said anything about it.

In fact, Maxwell rarely talked about anything anymore.

On the second night since they came back from Brazil he saw Maxwell pounding into the punching bag that he had gotten Zlatan.

He released all of his anger and sadness and afterward he cried for an hour just embracing the damn thing.

Zlatan had to do everything in the house, cleaning, cooking, the dishes.  
Maxwell refused to do anything.

It was annoying him a lot but he knew that he shouldn't say anything about it.

But now it was Christmas and Zlatan had bought a tree a week ago and decorated it himself.

He had always loved Christmas and he wasn't going to let Maxwell's moods ruin it for him.

So he had set the dinner table and made some fresh bread with butter and squeezed some orange juice.

He had put Maxwell's presents under the tree last night.

'Come on Max, please wake up. It's nearly eleven and I'm getting really hungry,'' Zlatan said, as he turned the lights on.

''Please just leave me alone,'' was the only answer he got.

''No you will go downstairs with me now, I have made you breakfast and there are presents under the tree, so you will come with me!!'' Zlatan didn't mean to blurt it out like that, but his patience was running out with Maxwell.

''I don't want to celebrate fucking Christmas Zlatan.  
I know you can never understand what I'm going through but you have to understand a little that I'm not in a partying mood right now!'' Maxwell sneered.

He folded his arms over each other.

''Of course I understand that, but I live here too! I'm the one that's trying to keep you alive you miserable bastard!  
I saved your ass in that water, I protected you in that bar fight. I'm the one who has made sure you show up for training in time, and probably saved your career by doing that.  
I came to Brazil for you!  
And I run your fucking house like some domestic housewife. So the least you can do for me is to get your ass downstairs and enjoy a normal Christmas breakfast with me!  
You owe me that!''

Maxwell went quiet for a while and just stared at Zlatan with his eyes filling up with more tears.

Zlatan hated seeing him cry and quite frankly, he was fed up with all the sadness.

Maxwell stretched his hand out to Zlatan and gave him a friendly nudge.  
Zlatan took ahold of his hand and sat down on the bed just waiting for him to say anything.

''I know, you are right about everything. I do owe you so much and I'm sorry that I have been such an ass this last month.  
But I just don't know how to exist in a world where my brother doesn't you know? And I take it out on you, which isn't fair at all since you are the only one who takes care of me and who loves me enough to stay here. You're all I have.   
I'm just pushing you away because I think that it's safer to do that.  
Because what if I get attached to you and then you die. You could get in a car accident too Ibra, you drive like a crazy man.  
I don't think I can bear it to lose you, so maybe I think that maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore, cause if were not friends then I cannot lose you either.  
Maybe I'm better off alone,'' Maxwell exhaled deep.

Zlatan tugged him into his arms and held him tight.

''No Maxi, sometimes you meet people who enter your life to stay there forever. I'm not going anywhere and you will never lose me or push me away.  
No matter how much of a jerk you are to me, I will _always_ be your friend. Because you need me in your life, you need someone strong and I need someone more sensitive and caring like you.  
We need each other and I'm not going to leave you, because I know that deep down, that is not what you want at all.  
That is just the grieve talking.  
So let's go, get up and let's eat breakfast,'' Zlatan said firmly.  

He gave Maxwell a pad on his back and stroked his hair briefly.

''Okay, and you're right. I do need you, and I know you need me.  
Sorry I was such an ass,'' said Maxwell and he smiled a little.

''Nah you're allowed to be that right now Maxi, after what you've been trough.  
I can take it, I'm used to much worse,''

Maxwell got dressed into his vest and his comfy pants and they went downstairs and Zlatan saw his friend's face light up when he saw the beautifully set table and the presents under the tree.

''You like it?''

''I love it, thank you for dragging me out of the bed.  
It looks totally beautiful,'' grinned Maxwell and he sat down at the table and drank some freshly squeezed orange juice.

''Thanks, do you want coffee?''  
''Sure,''

They laughed a lot over breakfast and Maxwell told funny Christmas morning stories about his family back home.

''Come on let's open your presents,'' Zlatan suggested.

He felt a little sharp amount of pain when he realized that there were no presents for him.  
''No wait hang on a second,'' Maxwell left the table and ran up the stairs.

When he came back down he had five presents in his arms.

Zlatan felt his eyes tear up a little when he saw his friend standing there with all these presents with his name on it.

''When did you get those? You barely left the house?  
And more importantly _where_ did you hide them from me?'' he asked with a big grin.

''You don't have to know everything Ibra, it's a secret.  
But come on, open this one first,'' he said and he gave Zlatan a small present.

When he opened it he saw that it was a nice silver watch, the one that Zlatan had pointed out in a magazine about him loving it so much.

''Wow Maxi, how did you remember that?  
I only mentioned this once, and it was months ago!'' he gaped and Maxwell put the watch on his arm carefully and smirked.

''I remember a lot of stuff you tell me Ibra. Do you like it?''

''No I love it! Thanks so much!''

He got a lot of nice presents: a photo of him and Maxwell that Wamberto had taken months ago during training.  

A mini model of a Ferrari Enzo since that was his dream car, a calendar of the Brazilan Ronaldo since he knew he was Zlatan's role-model and a new football to practice with since they had worn out the old one.

Usually gifts would represent how little people knew Zlatan but all of Maxwell's presents were spot on.

It showed Zlatan that Maxwell knew exactly how he was and what kind of things he liked.

Zlatan had gotten Maxwell nice stuff too.

A nice leather map of Brazil, one that Maxwell had pointed out when they were on the market on Copacabana.

He also had gotten Maxwell a new ball to play with, and a new Chessboard with King Arthur figurines on it because Maxwell loved the whole king Arthur story.  
But the best present he saved for last.

Maxwell tore the paper off a long square package and Zlatan saw that his friend's heart skipped a beat.

It was the picture of Maxwell and his brothers on the beach, the one that Maxwell's mother had hanging in her house.

Zlatan had noticed how much Maxwell loved that picture and decided to copy it, and enlarge it and frame it, and he took it back with him to Holland.

It was a beautiful picture, the boys were about seven years old and they were standing with their feet in the wet sand and the waves were kissing their ankles.

They had their arms around each other and hugged and smiled.

It was the most perfect picture Zlatan had ever seen and he decided to give it to Maxwell.

Maxwell just stared at the picture completely numb but the most beautiful smile spread across his face and it was like his whole soul just lit up for a few moments.

''Zlatan, this is just perfect, I don't know how to tell you how much I love this.  
Thank you so much, I love it more then you can ever know,'' he sniffed and he hugged Zlatan tight and refused to let him go for the next five minutes.

They spend the rest of the day just having fun, playing chess on Maxwell's new chessboard.

That was a good sign since Maxwell had refused to play chess ever since they came back from Brazil and Zlatan had realized that even though he lost like always, he had missed doing that.

They also watched Christmas movies and ate candy until they felt sick.  
There was no training for Ajax since it was Christmas break and they loved the sleeping in every day and not having to train.

Of course they would still run to the little field to improve their skills.

They also did that on Christmas, they ran till their feet were numb and played against each other until they were sick of it.

After a week it was New years eve.  
Zlatan had always loved New years, lighting up fireworks, making noise, screwing around with his friends.

Maxwell never liked that night at all, he usually would stay in the house, since he hated noise and the firework scared him somehow.

Zlatan had dragged Maxwell outside anyway and like always he lit up a lot of firework that cost him way to much money but fuck it right? It was only one night a year and he had more money than he could count. 

When the clock hit twelve Zlatan hugged Maxwell tight and kissed his cheeks.

''Happy new year Maxi,''

''Happy new year to you too Ibra,''

''This will be our year, I just know it. We will make it here at Ajax and we will show the world what we can do.  
We are going to be great, you and I. I promise.  
In a few years we will play at some big club like Milan or Barcelona.  
And I will always take you with me, to whatever club we will go.  
Just you and me,'' Zlatan vowed.

He held onto his friend tight and squeezed his neck a little.

''You promise?'' whispered Maxi and Zlatan smiled.

''I do, I will always be here for you. In the good times and the bad,''

''I know that,''

_Yeah, Maxwell thought, moving on was hard, but with a friend like this he could move mountains if he wanted to._

 

 


	7. Please don't leave me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zlatan leaves Ajax and the friends go their separate ways. 
> 
> And it hurts to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I took a long time with making a new chapter.  
> But thanks to the sweet comments here I decided to go on. 
> 
> I didn't wanna leave them at this ending.  
> They deserve another chapter.

August 31th 2004.

 _''Leaving?_  
What do you mean, you're leaving?!'' Maxwell snapped angrily when Zlatan had told him that he was moving to Juventus.

They were sitting on Maxwell's couch in Oudekerk and Maxwell couldn't believe what he was hearing.  
He knew Zlatan had his problems with Louis van Gaal and Raphael van der Vaart, who had accused Zlatan of injuring him on purpose.

But Zlatan leaving wasn't what he had expected.  
Normally he would discuss _everything_ he did with Maxwell, but he had played this one pretty close to the chest.

Even Mino Riola, their business manager hadn't told Maxwell anything.  
It enraged him, to be the last one to know.

''Well it means that I'm leaving for Juventus,'' Zlatan said dryly, but he avoided Maxwell's gaze, which taught Maxwell that he had understood his anger pretty well.

''Yes I got that, but I don't quite understand why you didn't tell _me_ about this,'' Maxwell said, his voice shivering and he took a sip of his strawberry juice to cool off.

''Because I knew that you would try to convince me to stay here.  
And I need to leave. I can't work here anymore.

The press hates me, the fans can't stand me and I'm just ready to move on,'' Zlatan said and Maxwell scoffed.

''Since when do you give a shit about what anyone thinks of you?''  
''Well I don't really, but-''

''So why are you doing this Ibra?  
It's not just leaving the team behind, you're leaving _me_ too you know,'' Maxwell said, tears stinging in his eyes.

''I know, and I'm sorry about that.  
But I can't just stay here for you Max.

I need to move on.  
Need to grow, and Juventus is such a big break for me.  
Its an amazing team and I wanna be the best player in the world, I can't be that if I stay here,'' Zlatan rationalized and Maxwell got even more pissed off.

''Sure that's what this is about,'' he scoffed.  
''What is that suppose to mean?'' Zlatan asked, his voice dark and angry.

''You're running away Ibra, its what you do.  
And its not because of Raphael, or Louis.  
 _I did this to you didn't I?''_ Maxwell asked and Zlatan raises his eyebrows.

''How could this possibly be about you?''  
''You don't remember our little talk from two months ago?'' Maxwell asked and Zlatan turned a little red.

''Of course I do, but you know I can't Max, I told you this before,''  
Maxwell swallowed heavily and he took a deep breath.

Two months ago they had went out to dinner.  
Maxwell had mustered all his courage and had finally told Zlatan how he really felt about him.

That he had always had feelings for him, couldn't stop thinking about him and all other kinds of shit like that.  
And Zlatan had sat there, like a fucking statue.

His mouth slightly open, his eyes big as saucers.  
When Maxwell was done talking, Zlatan had run out on him.

Maxwell was left, sitting there by himself, feeling stunned and hurt.  
Things had been extremely awkward after that dinner between them.

Zlatan had avoided Maxwell a lot and they didn't hang around each other anymore.  
And now Zlatan was leaving for Italy.

''You're a damned coward Ibra,'' Maxwell said, a tear escaping his eye, he wiped it away quickly.  
''I should go,'' Zlatan said, his voice thinner and more insecure then Maxwell had ever heard.

''No you're not walking out on me again.  
Not like this!

We've spent nearly _four years_ together, being best friends!!

You can't just sneak out of here like a thief in the night!  
 _I need a drink!''_ Maxwell growled and he got up and pulled a bottle of white wine from his fridge and he grabbed two wine glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

''When are you leaving?'' he forced himself to ask and Zlatan swallowed hard.  
''Tomorrow,'' he hissed and he took the glass of wine that Maxwell handed him with a grateful nod.

He still didn't really like wine, but he knew he couldn't refuse Maxwell much right now.  
The problem was that Maxwell had been right-he was _always_ right.

He was running away from him, more then anything else.  
The truth was that Maxwell's feelings were freaking Zlatan out.

He knew he felt the same about Maxwell, he always had know that.  
Ever since Maxwell had nearly drowned on him in Rio, Zlatan had known that he loved Maxwell too.

But he just couldn't go there.  
It was just _impossible_ to ever go there.

He had a reputation, a big name and he didn't want people to think he was a fag.  
So he was running, he was sacrificing Maxwell and himself for his own success.

Maxwell was right: he was a huge coward.  
But what else could he do?

Zlatan didn't see any other way out of this mess.  
So he did what he did best: leaving people behind that deserved so much more from him.

Maxwell had always been there for him, trough the good and the bad and had never disappointed him with anything.  
He was the most loyal and elegant guy in the world and Zlatan was so _blessed_ to have such a true friend by his side.

So why was he doing this?  
Maxwell deserved more.

After all those long years of being there for him, he had deserved so much more from Zlatan.  
But it seemed to be Zlatan's signature thing to piss people off and to scare them away.

He would probably lose Maxwell forever now, he would probably never see him again.  
And Maxwell would be right to do so too.

He had deserved it.  
Maxwell deserved more after everything he had done for Zlatan.

''I'm not like you Max, I'm not brave enough to stand up for my feelings.  
I disappoint people, that is _my_ thing.  
And I leave them behind,''

Maxwell shifted toward Zlatan a bit and smacked him in his face with the flat side of his hand.  
''Shut the hell up!!  
I'm not going to spend your last night here nursing your ego and your pathetic insecurities Zlatan.

 _This isn't about you okay._  
You just sprang this on me a day before you leave!

Its not fucking fair! I'm your best friend okay.  
And you are not getting rid of me this easily.

I'm not going to stop being your friend, not even after all this.  
I care about you, and you're my best friend, even when you're being a complete dick like today.

But I deserved more from you Zlatan, specially after everything we went trough together.  
You should have trusted me enough to tell me about your transfer plans.

Ibra look at me please,'' he said and Zlatan lifted his head and Maxwell cupped his cheek gentle with his left hand.

 _''This is me, have I ever judged you before or let you down?''_ he asked with a sob and Zlatan shook his head.  
''No never Max,'' he admitted and Maxwell spotted a tear in the corner of his dark eyes.

''Then why didn't you come to me?  
Why didn't you trust me like you always did?

Don't you care about me anymore?  
Or do you feel so disgusted thanks to me admitting my love for you?'' Maxwell asked thoroughly and Zlatan turned red and started sobbing with a scream.

''Don't say things like that!!!  
You know I care about you! I always have and always will.

You are the best guy I know and I love you so much,'' Zlatan had blurted the 'L' word out before he knew it.

 _''You what?''_ Maxwell asked, speechless, his eyes huge with shock.

''I love you Maxi, and I hate to leave you behind.  
I wish I could take you with me, but I can't.

I'm just scared you know.  
Scared of everything...'' Zlatan trembled heavily now and Maxwell scooted in closer and wrapped his arms around his upset friend.

Zlatan hugged him tight and placed his head on Maxwell's shoulder.

''You don't ever have to be scared of losing me Ibra, that I promise you.  
It doesn't matter if you ever love me back in that way or not.

I'm here to stay, you _need_ me after all-don't you?'' he asked with a hopeful smile.

Zlatan pulled his head back from Maxwell's shoulder and looked his friend in his amber colored eyes.  
''Yes I need you,'' he said truthfully.

''I need you to keep me sane, to keep me humble and friendly.  
You are the better side of me Max, you always have been.

You've given me so much and I'll always be grateful for that.  
And I promise you that we will play together again, in a while. We will figure something out,'' he said and he kissed Maxwell's forehead.

''Stay here tonight?'' Maxwell asked and he saw the doubt in Zlatan's dark eyes.  
''Max..''

''Please, just for tonight.  
I just want you close to me, like you used to do when my brother just-'' Maxwell couldn't go on, the thought of his brothers dead still hurt him a lot.

''Okay I will stay, wanna play a game?'' he asked with a nod to the chessboard and Maxwell smiled a bit, thankful for Zlatan's tries to change the subject.  
''Sure,''

He got up and put the chessboard on the coffee table and took the white side, like always.  
''You start,'' Zlatan said, but it was unnecessary to say it, since Maxwell always started.

White started, that was the general chess rule.  
Maxwell won, like always and for once Zlatan wasn't being a total child about that.

They had finished the bottle of wine together and Maxwell put the chess board back on its normal place by the fire place and he stuck his hand out to Zlatan.  
''Come on, lets go to bed,''

Zlatan took his hand without even thinking about it and they went upstairs.  
They laid down on Maxwell's soft mattress and Zlatan wrapped his arms around Maxwell tight and took his small hands in his own.

''I'm sorry Maxi, for everything,'' he offered and Maxwell started sobbing again.  
''Don't-please, just don't...'' Maxwell wailed and Zlatan enlaced his fingers with Maxwell's.

''No I need to say it.  
You need to know how I feel-'' Zlatan urged but Maxwell turned around and covered his friends mouth with his hand.

 _ **''No I don't!**_  
I don't wanna know how you feel!

If you tell me about this now, then it will only hurt me ten times more when you're gone tomorrow.

You should have told me this when I told you how I felt about you.  
Not now on the edge of you leaving me behind.

I don't wanna know it now Ibra- _please...''_ Maxwell begged, his eyes red and he felt extremely old and weary.

''All right, I won't tell you,'' Zlatan said with a sigh and for a second Maxwell felt relieved but then Zlatan cupped his cheeks and tugged him in closer.  
Pressing a slight kiss to his lips, causing Maxwell's head to spin and he whimpered soft. 

It was over way too quickly but Maxwell knew he would dream about this for years.  
When Zlatan broke the kiss, he smiled a bit and tugged Maxwell away deeper into his strong arms.

''Sleep now Max, I'm here,''  
''Yeah for now,'' Maxwell scoffed but he smiled a bit thanks to that amazing kiss.

He fell asleep in seconds.  
When he woke up, Zlatan was gone.

There was a note on his pillow and he folded it open.  
 _''You didn't want me to tell you how I felt about you Max, so I guess I had to show you._  
 _Actions always speak louder then words, specially with me._  
 _Stay safe and I will call you when I land._  
 _Promise._  
 _Thanks for everything._  
 _Zlatan.''_

Maxwell fell down on the carpet of his bedroom and started sobbing.  
That damn bastard.

He had loved him too, why couldn't he tell him about it when there was still time for them.  
Now it was over.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review guys! <3


	8. Mirror on the wall, here we are again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell is enjoying his holiday in his house when he gets an uninvited visitor.

_July 2005._

Maxwell was running on his treadmill when he heard his doorbell ring.  
It was beaming hot in the Netherlands that day and he sighed.

Heat in Brazil wasn't nearly _this_ bad.  
Here in the Netherlands it was suffocating sometimes.

Everything got all sticky and at night, it didn't cool off-at all.  
So Maxwell rarely ever slept at night.

He had a lot of trouble sleeping ever since Zlatan left for Juventus anyway.  
Zlatan had a great time over there and Maxwell was happy for him.

They called each other a lot, but to be honest: Maxwell wasn't handling it very well.  
He missed him more then he would like to admit, on some days it was so bad he cried all day.

He stopped his treadmill, got off it and padded his face off with his Ajax towel and slung it around his neck.

The doorbell kept on ringing and he shouted that he was coming.  
He stumbled to the door and opened it and the face he saw wasn't the one he had expected-at all- and he felt his jaw drop.

He had expected Wamberto to come over, or maybe some of his Dutch friends.  
But not this face-never this face.

Here was Zlatan fucking Ibrahimovic standing on his porch with a big grin on his face and a suitcase in his hand.  
 _''Hey Maxi,''_ he smiled and Maxwell's jaw sank even further into the floor and he felt his cheeks flush red.

 _''Hey-hi Ibra-what are you doing here?''_ he stammered confused and Zlatan embraced him tight and kissed his damp hair.

''I missed you,'' he admitted-like that was any explanation-and he wriggled himself past Maxwell and walked into his house without waiting for invitations.

He looked good, Maxwell pondered.  
His hair was still long, it had grown a bit, the color was back on his cheeks and he had gained a little more weight.

He was wearing a Levi's jeans, with Armani belt and a black Ralph Lauren polo shirt and he had Gucci sunglasses on his sweaty face.

''Maxi you look like you've seen a ghost,'' Zlatan noticed after a few minutes of silence, where Maxwell had simply stood there, motionless, completely stunned and shocked by the sight of his old friend.

''Well yeah it feels like I have.  
Jezus what are you even doing here?'' he asked and Zlatan raised his eyebrows.

''What, do I need a _reason_ to visit my best friend?  
I haven't seen you in almost a year!

So I thought I would surprise you,'' he grinned and Maxwell walked toward his fridge and pulled two bottles of mineral water out of them and handed one to Zlatan.

''You can sit down if you want,'' Zlatan offered with a smirk and Maxwell smiled back and sat down on his own couch next to Zlatan.  
''I still feel like this is a dream or something,'' he admitted and Zlatan scoffed.

''If this was a dream, you would probably be naked wouldn't you,'' he joked, and Maxwell grinned a bit, knowing that Zlatan knew that he always dreamed about being naked.

He stretched his hand out to Zlatan and touched his bare forearm, just to check if it all felt real and then when he had confirmed it, he wrapped his arms around Zlatan and pulled him into a long overdue embrace.

 _''Oh my god, it is really you,''_ he panted and he felt a tear land on his bare shoulder.  
''Yes Maxi, it's me,'' Zlatan said and he sobbed soft.

''God I missed you so much, you have no idea,'' Maxwell moped and he smacked Zlatan on his back with his bare hand.  
 _''Auw!!_ Max what was that for man!'' Zlatan hissed.

''That was for leaving me behind in the first place you asshole!'' Maxwell said, semi angry, semi amused.

''Well I'm sorry- but I don't regret it-overall I mean.  
I'm much happier now, the only downside is that _you_ aren't there with me.

And I do miss you a lot too.  
Some days it's almost unbearable to be apart from you,'' Zlatan admitted, his dark eyes foggy and Maxwell kissed his cheeks before turning over to his dark side.

''Well I heard you got over that quick enough,'' he mumbled angrily.  
''What is that suppose to mean?''

''You've already found someone have you?  
 _Helena_ is it?'' Maxwell snapped and Zlatan went a bit paler.

''How do you-''

''Oh come on Ibra!  
Everything you do ends up in the fucking papers remember!!''

Zlatan sighed deep and swallowed hard.  
''Yeah well, what did you expect Max?  
That we would ride into the fucking sunset together?

Adopt two adorable Chinese girls and make our own little happy family?  
Life doesn't work like that Max, not for us anyway.

Just because I have feelings for you doesn't man that this can _ever work_ okay!  
We are friends, and nothing more,'' Zlatan said, his tone even and determent.

Maxwell felt like the floor had vanished from underneath of him and he felt the tears sting in his eyes.  
 _''Do you love her?''_ he forced himself to ask, not knowing if he wants to hear the answer.

''Not really, well I respect her and she is fun and smart.  
But love is a strong word Maxi.

She is a good match for me, that's all,'' he said and Maxwell nodded and bit on his lower lip.

''I know we can't be together okay, I do know that.  
But this hurts me a lot Ibra.

I know we need to move on and all that, but I don't _want_ to move on.

I don't wanna give up on you, and I feel like if I do get a girlfriend myself, and a bunch of kids that we will never be together,'' Maxwell admitted, putting on another fan just to have something to do, and to wipe the tears from his eyes that he doesn't want Zlatan to see.

He doesn't want him to see his weaknesses and grunted when he realized that Zlatan just had that influence on everyone.

When you are around him, you don't want to show any weakness, since he will _never_ do that either.

''Maxi, look at me,'' Zlatan said when Maxwell sat back down.  
He looked Zlatan into his dark eyes and took a deep breath.

''We are _never_ going to be together anyway,'' he said and Maxwell felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces and he needed to force himself to keep breathing.

''Please don't feel bad about that okay, it is not because I don't want to be with you.  
It's just that I can't do it okay.

I want you in my life, I _need_ that actually.  
But as my friend, and I want you to join me at other teams.

I want our kids to become friends, I want to cook with you, go on holidays with you and have fun with you.

I need my friend back Max-please,'' he begged and Maxwell gave him a wry grimace.

''I see that you're still the same old coward that you've always been,'' he sneered and Zlatan turned a bit paler.

 **''Don't ever call me a coward!!!''** he screamed, his face draped with anger.

''Well what else should I call you then?  
Always this fucking _''reputation''_ argument!!

I'm so sick of this shit!''

 _''I can't be with you Maxi, I can't have people thinking I'm a fairy-queen!''_ Maxwell mocked and he smashed his water bottle on the floor, cursing the fact that the damn thing was plastic instead of glass.

Zlatan brought his Brazilian temper to life inside of him and Maxwell cursed him under his lips.

''Max please calm down, don't say things like this- _please,''_ Zlatan tried to soothe but Maxwell was out of control and he started trembling from top to bottom.

''No I can't calm down, I've missed you so goddamn much it was almost too much to handle.  
And now you're suddenly sitting here on my fucking couch and all I wanna do is hold you, kiss you and never let you go.

 _But I have to let you go don't I?  
_ Because you are going back to Juventus soon, leaving me behind again!

You say you love me, but you won't be with me.  
Maybe you should just forget about me Ibra, put us both out of our miseries.

I know I would probably be better off without you fucking with my head,'' Maxwell said, his voice quivering.

''No,'' Zlatan's retort comes instantly and his voice is strong and decisive when he takes Maxwell's hand into his own.

''No Max, I won't leave you.  
I _can't_ leave you, you are the better side of me remember?'' he asked with a small smile.

''Yeah well, I'm sure you will find another better half,''

''No I won't, it needs to be you Maxi.  
I need it to be you, please stay with me,'' Zlatan begged and Maxwell scoffed.

''In case you forgot: I'm not the one that left, _you jerk,''_ he snapped and Zlatan nodded.

''I know, and you're right about that.  
But I am so much happier now, I feel free you know.

Here at Ajax I got tied down, and everyone hated on me.  
They still hate on me a bit at Juve, but at least there they respect me,''

''Well they should, you've grown a lot as a player.  
You are truly amazing you know,'' Maxwell felt like it was someone else saying those words instead of him.

They just fall out of his mouth and he blushed a bit.  
 _''Really?''_ Zlatan asked, his eyes huge.

''Yes really,''  
''You watched me play?'' Zlatan asked a bit surprised, which stung Maxwell a bit.

''Of course silly, I watch every game you play!  
Don't you watch mine?'' he asked, sounding insecure now.

''Yes I usually tape them, you are still amazing and you keep getting better too,'' Zlatan smiled soft and Maxwell felt relieved that he wasn't the only one.  
''Thank you,''

''Can I stay over for a couple days?'' Zlatan asked and Maxwell felt his head nod automatically.  
''Sure, we can visit some of your old friends, Mido is still here,'' he said and Zlatan smiled.

''Sounds great!''

That night Maxwell cooked Zlatan's favorite Brazilian dish ( stew with beef and banana's ) and they played chess afterward.

Which Maxwell won, because some things didn't change.   
And it was really nice, to spend time together again, just being friends like they always were.

Maxwell almost forgot about his feelings for a while and he really enjoyed spending time with his old friend.

He showed Zlatan his room, which was the same one as he used to sleep in, the only exception was the slightly bigger bed, and his tall friend hugged him briefly to wish him goodnight.

That night in his own bed he couldn't find any rest.  
He kept on twisting and turning and it was almost too hot to move.

He had taken all his clothes off and was lying under his sheet, but kept kicking it off to get a little cooler.  
Not that it helped.

At two o clock he gave up, put his boxers back on and went downstairs as silent as he could to get a glass of white wine.  
He gazed at Zlatan's briefcase and smiled a bit.

It was weird, having him over all of the sudden after missing him for almost a year.  
And yet, now that he was back, it seemed like he had never left him at all.

Everything felt the same, appeared to be the same and Maxwell didn't love him any less then before he had left him behind.  
It had been one miserable year for Maxwell.

He was lonely a lot of the times, he missed his family in Brazil and even though he had plenty of friends at Ajax, it was never the same for him.  
Maxwell just _needed_ Zlatan in his life.

Because he was the one person that he could be himself with.  
The only guy where he didn't have to be afraid to hurt their feelings, where he didn't have to walk on his toes.

Zlatan could take whatever he threw at him, and he always told him how he felt.  
With Zlatan Maxwell didn't have to do the _social contract shit_ and he loved it.

The freedom of just being himself was breathtaking to him.  
Because Maxwell was such a good and polite guy, he had always been like that.

Raised with a good set of manners and social decency.  
But with Zlatan he felt free to swear sometimes, to show that he had a darker side too, and that Zlatan would still care about him if he did show his flaws.

Because Zlatan had been trough hell and back and had survived that.  
And he was there for Maxwell, even when he was an absolute asshole that Maxwell wanted to kill.

He came with him to Brazil when his brother died, he took care of him the months after that when Maxwell had been an insufferable jerk to everyone around him, and he had supported him no matter what.

Maxwell took another glass of whine and pondered over their time together until his brain seemed to melt from the heat and emotions.  
So he downed his glass to quickly, felt a headache appear and stumbled back up the stairs.

He walked past Zlatan's room and saw that the door was slightly open, so he peeked in.  
The moonlight was illuming Zlatan's face and he was lying on his stomach, his head buried in his pillow and he was completely naked.

Maxwell swallowed hard and told himself that he had to stop staring like a stalker and get back to his own room, but his legs didn't seem to agree with him, they stayed motionless and felt heavy.

''Why are you in my room Maxi?'' Zlatan suddenly asked and Maxwell jumped up with a shriek.

''Jezus, how did you know I was in here?'' he croaked and Zlatan scoffed soft and turned around, covering himself with his sheet before Maxwell could see anything good.

''I heard you breathing, you big freak, were you spying on me?'' Zlatan said with a wry smirk and Maxwell shook his head slowly.

''No! Of course not!  
I just couldn't sleep so I went downstairs to get some wine.

It's just too goddamn hot to sleep,'' he sighed and he wished he had taken some water since his throat seemed to be dryer then a desert suddenly.

 _''I'm sorry Max,''_ Zlatan said and Maxwell stared at him completely confused.

''For what?'' he asked and Zlatan stuck his arm out to him, gesturing Maxwell to come in and so he shuffled into the room carefully, sitting down next to Zlatan on his big Hastings bed.

''For just barging in here like this, I should have called you or something.  
I should have known that this would make this-well-more complicated somehow.

But I didn't think about it, I just missed you so much and I suddenly couldn't take it anymore.  
So I booked a plane ticked, grabbed my suitcase and I left,'' Zlatan admitted and Maxwell smiled faint.

 _Classic Zlatan,_ he thought.  
Never thinking about his actions, just doing it and thinking about the consequences later.

He took Zlatan's hand and placed his forehead against his friends sweaty shoulder.  
Zlatan put his arm around him instantly, protective and strong.

''No Ibra, it's okay.  
I'm glad you came out here, really I am.

You just took me by surprise thats all.  
And yes it does confuse me a bit- being around you again-but, well I missed you so goddamn much that I couldn't care less about why you did it to be honest.

All that matters is that you're here now.  
Safe in my arms. I worry about you a lot you know,'' he said, his voice shaking like a straw.

''Why is that?'' Zlatan asked, his eyebrows raised and Maxwell cocked his head to the side and smiled.

''Because you have a tendency to get into trouble Zlatan, and the papers write about you a lot.  
So whenever I read about you head butting someone, or some other bullshit the paparazzi writes, I get worried.

I just wanna keep you safe, I wanna write a book about you and publish it to the press.  
Just so they know what is underneath that rebel that you are.

They need to know your background, it will help them understand you, will make them think twice about why you act the way you do.  
Nobody knows who you really are Ibra,'' Maxwell said and Zlatan shot him a shaky smile.

 _''Except you Maxi, you do know who I am._  
You're the only one that does,'' he said and he kissed Maxwell's forehead, brushing his damp lips over the sticky skin.

''Exactly, so maybe I _should_ write that book.  
Just to shut them up for once,'' Maxwell said, his amber colored eyes beaming with anger.

''Maxi, I don't give a damn what they write about me, so why do you care so much?''

''Because they are talking shit about the person that _I love_ and it hurts me to hear those things okay!'' Maxwell spat, his eyes welling up with tears.

Zlatan doesn't know how to respond to niceness like a normal person so he just shrugged, got up and handed Maxwell a cup of water and patted his back uncomfortably.

''It's all right Max,'' he tried to soothe but Maxwell grimaced.

''Yeah whatever you say, now do you mind?'' he snapped with a furious look at Zlatan's hand on his shoulder.  
Zlatan took it off quickly and gazed at Maxwell like he had given him a smack in his face.

''Stay here tonight,'' Zlatan whispered just when Maxwell had his hand on the doorknob.  
 _''Excuse me?''_ he asked, his voice quivering.

''You heard me-I know you want to stay here with me-you always do-'' Zlatan said seductively and Maxwell groaned.  
He opened the door and took a deep breath.

''You don't have the faintest idea of what I want Zlatan,'' and he closed the door behind him with a bang and ran to his own room with a sob buried away in his voice.  
That fucking asshole.

Maxwell stayed awake for the rest of the night.  
When he went downstairs the next morning he made a huge mug of coffee with milk and sugar.

It was only six o clock and he was completely exhausted.  
Zlatan came down at seven and found Maxwell at the kitchen table reading the morning paper.

''Did you finally learn Dutch?'' he asked and Maxwell nodded.

''A bit yeah-sleep well?'' he asked and Zlatan shrugged a bit.

''Not really, not after...'' he mumbled and he turned a bit red.

''Yeah I figured.  
So how long are you staying here?'' Maxwell asked and Zlatan gave him a second shrug.

''Don't know, a week maybe.  
Why? Would you like me to check into a hotel?'' he asked and Maxwell chewed on his lip, weighing his options.

One side of him wanted Zlatan to go immediately, but the other side didn't want to miss him again.  
 _''No,''_ he said definitive.

''I want you to stay here, but no more heavy talks okay!  
And I wanna have fun, just fun,'' Maxwell said, his eyes a bit brighter and Zlatan smiled.

''Okay, we can do that.  
So what do you wanna do today?'' he asked and Maxwell poured him a cup of coffee and grinned.

''You decide,'' he smiled.  
They had the best week of their lives.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please review guys!
> 
> Hope you like it!! <3


	9. Maximilian.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zlatan's first child in on the verge of being born and it causes drama between the friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm very sorry for making you guys wait so long for the next chapter. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it though!  
> Next one will be up quickly I hope.

_Milan, september 21th, 2006_.

 

Maxwell was training in the gym with his colleagues next to him when a trainer called him to the side.  
One of Mourinho's puppets like always, and Maxwell swallowed hard.

He didn't like Mourinho at all and he had a hard time getting used to him.  
With guys like Mourinho it was all about the drama, and Maxwell was one of the few who saw what a two-faced guy he actually was.

Mourinho could be very nice towards his own family and he could act like that around his players but when a camera hit him, he instantly changed.  
He turned into a guy who was starved for attention- _good or bad_ \- and he behaved despicable according to Maxwell.

Zlatan however liked him a lot, because Mou also spoke his mind whenever he wanted to.  
It amazed Maxwell that he didn't hated that quality in Zlatan, but that he couldn't stand Mou as a person for it.

But with guys like Mourinho, even their actions lied.  
All the drama, the mocking of the reporters, calling himself the _''special one''_ it was all fake, all a lie to get attention and Maxwell hated it.

At least Zlatan always meant what he said, and he never lied to him, Maxwell rationalized.

Mourinho's guy gave him a lecture saying that he needed to cover his targets better, that he needed to be sharper and more focused and that Mou was unhappy with his work.

''If he has a problem with me, he can come down here and tell me that himself,'' Maxwell snapped and he left the guy alone and got back to training.

It wasn't like him to snap at people, but he was so on edge with Zlatan's first child being born any day now.  
He was so nervous for his friend, and also a tad angry and sad for himself.

It felt like with the child, he would lose Zlatan _forever_.  
He had been overwhelmed with joy when he heard that Zlatan would join him at Inter, since he missed him every day.

But he also knew that it would be hard for him to stay away from his friend, to accept that he had moved on with Helena and that they were starting their own family now.

''You okay Maxi?'' Julio Cesar asked, who was lifting weights next to him.

''Fine, thanks,'' Maxwell mumbled and he went back to his calf exercises.  
He liked Julio a lot, he was a Brazilian like himself and he spent a lot of time with him and Maicon, another Brazilian.

''You're lying,'' Patrick Vieira noticed and Maxwell grinned.  
''Everybody lies sometimes,'' he retorted and Patrick nodded.

''I just didn't expect lies from a good little boy scout like you,'' Hernan Crespo teased and Maxwell turned a little red.  
''Come on guys, lay off him!'' Zlatan snapped who had slid back into the gym without anyone hearing him come in.

He could sneak up on people better than anyone, which was weird seeing how he was a giant guy that didn't exactly had a light touch when he walked.  
Maxwell felt himself blush a bit but he tried to keep his composure.

''You heard the man, back to training!'' Patrick ordered with a wink to Zlatan and the players scattered off and went back to their machines.  
Patrick had a natural leadership over his character and everyone listened to him.

He was one of Zlatan's best friends and Maxwell liked him, but wasn't really the type of guy that liked to hang around with Patrick.  
To be honest: he scared Maxwell a bit sometimes.

Maxwell hadn't forgotten about the first time that Zlatan and Patrick met.  
Patrick had ordered Zlatan to get the ball, who had told him to go to hell and do it himself and they had gotten into a fist fight.

It was soothed in two seconds, but it had scared Maxwell a lot.  
Two minutes later, the men were walking next to each other, laughing and babbling like nothing had happened.

 

''You okay?'' Zlatan asked concerned and Maxwell's lips twitched up and he forced himself back to the present day.  
''Fine, don't worry about it,''

''What happened?'' Zlatan asked with a darkness in his voice that taught Maxwell that he wasn't allowed to joke around and Maxwell sighed.  
''Can't we just let it slide?'' he asked, knowing that if was futile.

Zlatan had this weird obsession of protecting Maxwell against everyone who had it in for him.  
''No we can't, just tell me what's up!''

''One of Mou's _sock puppets_ came up to me again, telling me I was too distracted to play and that I needed to do better, so I told him that if Mou had problems with me that he should man up and come and tell it to me in person,'' Maxwell admitted and a huge grin slid over Zlatan's face.

''Jesus who are you and what have you done to my Maxi?'' he smiled.

 _My Maxi?_ Maxwell thought he was going to faint when he heard Zlatan say that.

''Well I guess I hang around you too much to stay nice,'' Maxwell retorted and Zlatan snickered.

''You got me there, but still he shouldn't have said those things to you!  
Do you want me to go to Mou and have a word?'' Zlatan offered and Maxwell scoffed and rolled his eyes.

''We're not _twelve_ years old Ibra.  
When I have a problem with someone I'll go there myself, I don't need a personal bodyguard,'' he said and Zlatan looked a tad offended now.

''I just wanna help that's all.  
Don't like seeing you so unhappy,''

 _''I'm not unhappy, I just have to get used to all the new people around me and-''_    
''And the fact that I'm becoming a father in a couple of days,'' Zlatan added and Maxwell snorted.

''Not everything is about _you_ in my life Zlatan,'' he said, his voice icy and dark.  
''I know that Max, I just-''

''No you know what? Just leave me alone!'' Maxwell bursted out and he grabbed his gym bag and left as quick as he could.

The problem was that Zlatan had been right.  
He would never like to admit it, but it did hurt him to see Zlatan becoming a father soon.

Maxwell had started dating a woman named Paulinha a while back, and he liked her a lot.  
She was smart and funny and he had met her at a PR event.

She was a good match for him, quiet, respectful, Brazilian and friendly and they could talk for hours.  
They had moved in together after a couple of months and he always liked coming home to her.

Paulinha worked in an animal shelter and it wasn't long before she had convinced Maxwell to adopt two cats.  
They called them Hope and Lucky and Maxwell could never get them off his lap.

When he came home that day, Paulinha was still at work.  
So he decided to make her dinner and to read a book the rest of the afternoon.

Zlatan called him a couple times but he ignored him and when Paulinha came home he had cooked her a nice meal.  
He heard the key unlock and saw her walking trough the door.

''Hey honey,'' she said with a smile and she kissed Maxwell briefly on his lips.  
''Hi, how was your day?'' he asked and she shrugged.

''It was fine, oh yum, I'm smelling food! Thank god, I'm starving!'' she grinned and she sat down on the table.  
''Yeah I made you your favorite,'' he said with a gaze at the stew he had made Zlatan so many times.

He tried to push that thought away but it kept on nagging at him.  
So he took some wine from the fridge and poured them two glasses.

''Uhm I kinda need to talk to you,'' she said and Maxwell frowned concerned and sat down.  
''Oh about what?'' he asked nervously.

''I can't really drink anymore,'' she said with a small smile and Maxwell instantly knew what she meant.  
 _''Wait are you-?''_ he asked and she nodded.

''Really?!''  
''Yes we're having a baby!'' she yelped and he jumped up from his seat and hugged her tight.

''Oh my god we're having a baby!!'' he yelled and he kissed her stomach gentle.  
''I'm so relieved that you're happy about this,'' she sighed and Maxwell looked up confused.

''Why wouldn't I be happy with this?''  
''Because we've been dating for only six months Max and we didn't really plan this or anything,''

 _''So what! This is our baby!_  
Of course I want it!'' Maxwell beamed with the biggest smile.

''Can we tell people?'' he asked hopeful and she grimaced a bit.

''Hm I don't know, it's still pretty early.  
I know you wanna tell _him_ about it, and you can if you think he can keep it quiet,'' she said, and she tugged a strain of her brown hair behind her ear.

He had underestimated her again, of course she knew that he wanted to tell Zlatan about this.  
She always seemed to know what was going on inside of his head.

He wondered if she knew about his feelings for Zlatan, but he didn't want to ask her about it.

''Who are you talking about?'' he asked, trying to play dumb.

''Don't mistake me for an _idiot_ Maxwell, we both know who I'm talking about,'' she snapped, her brown eyes beaming with anger.  
''I'm sorry,'' he said and he took her hand in his own.

''No it's all right, I know that you love him and that you'd rather be with him,'' she said with a sad face and Maxwell felt a huge amount of air escape his lungs.  
 _She knew about it?_

That relieved him in a way, because at least he didn't have to hide his feelings now, but it also surprised him that she wanted to have a child with him when he was in love with someone else.

''How did you know?'' he asked, not wanting to lie to her anymore.

''Honestly, I don't think that there are people who know you guys and _don't know_ about it,'' she shrugged casual, but he caught her gnawing on her lip, which mean that she was uncomfortable. 

''But then why are you staying with me?  
Why do you even want to have my baby?'' he asked confused and she shot him a warm smile and took his hand.

''Because you're a good guy sweetheart, and I think you've suffered enough, and you've given enough of yourself to him.  
I think you deserve a chance to just start your own family and be happy with that.

 _I'm doing this for you, because I love you._  
Even if you don't love me in the same way.

For me that doesn't matter, I just want you to be happy, with or without me,'' she said and he felt tears well up in his eyes and hugged her tight.

''You're such an amazing woman, you know that?  
And I do love you, and you make me happy.

I know very well that I'll never have him for myself and that he doesn't feel that way about me.  
But I can't let him go, no matter how hard I try.

He's in my veins, in my blood and engraved in my soul.  
 _I hate him, and I love him_.

But today is not about him, it's about our baby.  
You make me very happy love and I'm so happy that I've got you,'' he smiled and he kissed her cheek.

After dinner they went to bed early and Maxwell fell asleep with a big smile on his face.  
For the first time in months he finally felt at peace.

 

Until his phone started ringing in the middle of the night.  
He groaned loud and reached for it in the dark and dropped it off the nightstand.

''Hm who is it?'' Paulinha mumbled and Maxwell finally found the phone and checked the number and sighed.  
 _Zlatan, it said on the screen_.

''Nobody,'' he said evasively and he slammed the phone back on the nightstand.

''Call him back, Helena could be in labor for god's sake!'' she warned him and Maxwell's eyes flew open after he realized that he had completely forgotten about Zlatan's child being born any day now.

''Hey Max, can you come to my place, I need to be smuggled into the hospital,'' Zlatan rambled when he answered his phone and hadn't even said hello yet.

''I'll be right there,'' he said and he hung up.

''I gotta go, I need to smuggle him into the hospital according to our plan.  
And to make sure he doesn't run out of there in the middle of the birth,'' he sighed and he turned the light on started to get dressed.

''Come on he wouldn't leave her there _alone_ right?'' Paulinha asked, her eyes huge and shocked.

''He would, not because he doesn't care about her or his son, but because he is really traumatized by hospitals.  
He asked me to be there to force him to stay with her, because he's a bit of a flight risk.

So I agreed to do that, and to smuggle him in trough the back door so he doesn't get recognized by the press,'' he said and he put a grey hoodie over his head and kissed Paulinha's cheek.

''See you later,'' he sighed and she wished him good luck.  
He drove up to Zlatan's house and saw his friend sitting on the stairs of his apartment wearing a cap and sunglasses.

It was only three in the morning and Maxwell was already exhausted.  
Zlatan was looking paler than ever and Maxwell had to smile when he saw him, just the idea of him becoming a dad suddenly seemed very hilarious.

When Zlatan saw Maxwell approaching his face filled with relief and he got up from the steps and hugged him tight.

''Oh thank god you're here.  
I was afraid that you wouldn't come and-''

 _''Shut up Ibra, don't insult me okay._  
I promised you to help you trough this months ago didn't I?'' he asked and he wriggled himself loose and Zlatan nodded slowly.

''Well yeah but-''

''And don't I _always_ keep my fucking promises? Even when we are having arguments like we had today?'' Maxwell asked, his voice lashing out like a whip and Zlatan looked ashamed now.

''Yeah you do, I'm sorry Max,''

''Forget it, lets just go to the hospital all right?'' he said, his voice still harsh and he saw the tears well up in Zlatan's eyes and realized that he needed to try a different approach.

''Hey, it's okay Ibra, I'm here for _you_ remember?'' he asked and he took Zlatan's hand and smiled reassuring and he saw his friend nod.

''Good so let's just get in my car and I'll drive you to the hospital.  
It's all going to be fine, _I promise._

You don't have to do this alone, I'll be with you the whole way, I promise,'' he said and Zlatan shot him a watery smile.

''Thank you Maxi, you're the best guy I know,'' he sniffed and Maxwell tactically looked away when he saw a tear escape Zlatan's eye.

Lesson one when you're dealing with Zlatan: if he ever sheds a tear, look away because he is already embarrassed enough that he is showing weakness in front of your eyes.

Seeing Zlatan cry is as rare as an eclipse, and Maxwell knew that it was a privilege that he was one of the few, _if not the only one_ , who had ever seen him cry.  
For him as a Brazilian, crying was something that was considered very normal and a part of every day life, but not for Zlatan.

Zlatan was silent the whole way to the hospital and Maxwell wondered if he needed to tell him about his own baby.  
But he decided that it could wait, today should be about Zlatan's child, not his own.

''Are you okay?'' he asked when they were almost at the hospital.

''What if I'm a terrible father to my boy or girl Max?  
I mean I can't even get myself to the hospital on my own without your help!'' Zlatan burst out and Maxwell smiled warm and let the steering wheel go with one hand and placed it on Zlatan's and squeezed it tight.

 _''A boy Ibra, it's going to be a boy, and you will never be a terrible father._  
You're just scared of hospitals, because of your childhood memories,'' Maxwell pondered and Zlatan's eyes went huge.

''A boy? Do you know something I don't?'' he asked with a small smile.

''No but I just _know_ that it's going to be a boy.  
You're not the type of guy that makes girls.

In my heart I just know that it's going to be a boy,'' Maxwell said and Zlatan stared at him in amazement.

''What?'' Maxwell asked with a grin and Zlatan huffed.

''Nah I just-well I had the same feeling about the baby,'' he said and Maxwell noticed that he had calmed down so he tried to get his hand back but Zlatan wouldn't let him go until they reached the hospital.

They parked the car and Maxwell called the doctor who had agreed to sneak Zlatan in trough the back door and he let them in quickly.  
Together they walked to the delivery room and Zlatan walked trough the door but Maxwell halted in front of the glass slide doors.

Zlatan poked his head back out of the room and raised his eyebrows.  
''Come on, the baby isn't going to wait for _anyone_ you know!'' he rushed and Maxwell frowned.

''I'm not going in there, it's your kid and I don't belong in there with you guys,''

''Maxi, I want you in there and so does Helena.  
Besides I want our son to meet his godfather right away,'' he beamed and Maxwell's jaw dropped.

''You want _me_ to be the godfather?''

''Of course, who else should do it? Helena agreed on it months ago so don't worry about that.  
I can't think of a better person for the job to be honest,'' Zlatan grinned.

''But I'm not even family or-''  
 _''You are family to me! Please Max, please do this-for me...''_

Maxwell felt trapped, on one hand he wanted to say no, but saying no to Zlatan had never been his strong suit.  
And on the other hand he felt very honored that Zlatan wanted him in the room now and considered him family and godfather material.

Before he could decide however, he heard a scream come from inside the room and he recognized Helena's muffled voice.

''Maxwell you get your ass in here right now!!'' she shouted and Zlatan grinned triumphant and Maxwell decided that it probably wasn't very wise to argue with a woman who was giving birth.

So he followed Zlatan trough the glass doors and saw the relief on Helena's sweaty face when she saw the two men.  
 _ **''Jesus what the hell took you guys so long!!''**_ she screamed and Maxwell sat down on the chair beside her and took her hand and yelped when she started squeezing it ferociously.

''Are you sure you want me in here?'' he asked and she smacked him on the back of his head.  
 _ **''Shut up, idiot! Don't ask me fucking stupid questions!''**_ she bellowed and Maxwell grinned a bit.

This was exactly the reason why Zlatan liked Helena so much, she was tough as nails and very direct.  
Zlatan took her hand and the doctor ordered her to start pushing.

It took a long time, very long and it seemed that Zlatan's child already had his legendary stubbornness.  
Late in the morning around eleven the baby finally decided that it was time to show his face to the world.

''It's a boy!'' the doctor said with a smile and he cleaned the baby with a towel and Zlatan clipped the umbilical cord.  
Maxwell had never seen such joy on his friends face, never such happiness and pure amazement for that tiny human being in his arms.

It was like the baby had given him a fresh start, a way to forget about his painful past and a giant hope for the future. 

Maxwell felt tears well up and swallowed hard and he saw that Helena was crying and that Zlatan was wiping his cheek with his sleeve tactically.

Helena held the baby for a while and kissed his forehead gentle.

''He's so perfect guys, so beautiful,'' Maxwell said, his heart overflowing with nothing but love for the baby.  
This was Zlatan's baby, a part of him and he loved him instantly.

''Here you take him,'' Helena offered and Maxwell accepted the baby very careful and rocked him up and down slowly to soothe him.  
Not that it was necessary because the child was calm and peaceful in his arms.

His hair was blond and his eyes were blue and beautiful.  
''Do you guys have a name yet?'' he asked and Zlatan and Helena exchanged looks and nodded to each other.

 _''Yes, we decided to name him Maxi, short for Maximilian,''_ Zlatan said and Maxwell's heart melted.

Zlatan was naming his son after him, for Maxwell there were no words to describe his emotions so he just stood there, with the baby in his arms and sobbed soft.

''Are you serious?'' he asked when he had finally found his voice back.

''Yes, because I want him named after someone who made me a better person, who taught me that it is okay to cry, to show my weakness from time to time.  
Who has always been there for me, for better or for worse.

I can't think of a better name for him to be honest,'' Zlatan said with the warmest smile Maxwell had ever seen on his face.

''I-can't- believe this guys-I feel so honored,'' Maxwell cried and Zlatan embraced him tight and Maxwell cried on his shoulder, still holding the new born tight.

 _''Love you Max,''_ Zlatan whispered in his ear and Maxwell closed his eyes, helplessly trying to fight the river of tears that washed trough him.

 _''Love you too,''_ he gasped in his neck and for a minute the world seemed to be slowing down and everything seemed to be about them for a change.

Just the two of them, and ''their'' perfect little baby in their arms.

Their own little family, just like they had always wanted it to be, if only for a minute.  
Both of them had never felt happier in their lives.

_And for a minute, it was enough._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review guys! <3


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